


The Open Window

by decaf_kitty



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Bottom Hatake Kakashi, M/M, Masks, Top Umino Iruka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-07-27 22:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 49,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decaf_kitty/pseuds/decaf_kitty
Summary: Iruka does his duty to Konoha by fulfilling the requests of a recently returned fox-masked ANBU who just wants to submit.





	1. Chapter 1

Iruka watched his window. It had been several hours now, but no one had come through. His stomach tense and twisted, he forced himself to sit still on the edge of his bed. He occasionally thought he should just go ahead and climb under the covers, but he stopped himself each time, not wanting whichever ANBU chose him to scare him awake. With his luck, his first sight would be a white-faced shadow soundlessly hovering above him. Iruka winced. He was more than fulfilled by his work at the Academy, but he knew there was no comparison to his abilities and that of ANBU. They were relentless and restless; they knew death intimately and not much else. 

Or that’s what he might have believed when he had been a pre-genin. But, now that he was older, Iruka knew that ANBU were capable of an exceptional range of emotions. They had wants and needs just like any shinobi, except theirs were hidden well below Konoha’s wants and needs. He had learned of the role of the open window over a year ago, when another Academy teacher had taken him aside and asked if he had done his duty to Konoha yet. She was so serious that Iruka hadn’t been able to stammer out the truth – that he didn’t know what she was talking about – but she had explained it all anyway.

Iruka hadn’t imagined that he might actually do it, but he had recently noticed that the jounin and ANBU were being sent out of the village at a demanding, ceaseless pace. When they did come back, they returned in bloody pieces. The jounin were barely able to move, let alone respond to him, when they submitted paperwork at the mission desk. He rarely saw the ANBU on their arrival, because no one was actually supposed to witness it. But he had watched one return earlier that very night.

A few hours before sunset, a fish-masked ANBU had slipped on the slate-roof of the apartment across from Ichiraku’s and had fallen into the street. She laid there, unmoving. Within moments, Iruka found himself out in the road a few yards from her, hands outstretched to check on her, but a second ANBU had abruptly materialized before him and swept his prone colleague into his arms. Iruka stopped short, a heated flush rising to his face, and averted his gaze from the pair. He hadn’t seen the second ANBU very clearly, but he could feel the penetrating stare of the other man without even looking his way. 

“ANBU-san,” he demurred, remaining in place.

Iruka waited a few beats before glancing up and finding them both gone. 

Fresh blood stained the street.

Hours later, Iruka slumped his head into his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed. After the sun set, he’d finally opened his window, knowing full well it meant a welcome to any ANBU who wanted or needed… him. He hadn’t had a romantic or sexual partner in over two years, and he lacked both family and roommates. His stomach clenched as he realized, yet again, he was an ideal candidate for this sort of exchange. Worse, the Academy teacher’s words still haunted him: “They need people like us to remind them of humanity, Iruka. We have a duty to them. A physical duty. They need this. They need you.”

He had felt far too uncomfortable the last year to open himself up – literally – to returning ANBU in the night. But after he saw the fish ANBU in such sorry shape, an overwhelming part of him wanted to help her stand, get her to the hospital, and watch her rest and recover, even if he never saw her face nor knew her name. He realized sourly that that sort of sentimentality made the difference between who was chosen to be ANBU in the first place. Yet, as Iruka studied his hands in the faint moonlight, he knew kindness could make all the difference. While he hadn’t seen Naruto in some time, he still received sporadic letters from his dear student, full of life and warmth somehow untampered by the hardship of the shinobi way. 

Just as Iruka was beginning to scold himself – he wasn’t waiting at midnight for a new pen pal, he had his window open so someone could come in and fuck him! – he realized that the farthest corner of his bedroom had shifted just slightly.

He tried not to startle and looked more closely at the shadowed space. “ANBU-san?” he asked. 

The darkness warped more until a fully visible ANBU stood in front of him. 

Iruka straightened, running his eyes over the figure. He noted the porcelain mask in the shape of a fox – and he thought very, very briefly about Naruto again – before he rapidly assessed that the ANBU was male. He hadn’t been particularly concerned either way, but he had assumed that whichever ANBU choose him would be male. There was an unfortunate interest in Iruka’s long hair, especially when it came loose from its ponytail, and he had fended off more than a few aggressive male chuunin and jounin in his day. He had dated two men of his rank since making chuunin, but he had also slept with a woman for a few months. She had made jounin before they peacefully separated, and he hadn’t been with anyone since. 

The ANBU before him was unbearably lean and muscular, making him feel embarrassingly stocky in comparison. He could easily sense the other man’s strength and felt uneasy contemplating his chakra reserves and specialties. An itchy part of him did a stupid thing: try and find identifying marks on the elite shinobi in his bedroom. The ANBU had a shock of silver hair halfway contained by his porcelain mask, and his bare arms were astonishingly pale-skinned. He didn’t have any obvious scars on his visible skin. In contrast, Iruka knew that his own facial scar made him easily recognizable as Umino Iruka, a teacher at the Academy.

He forcibly stopped himself. He wasn’t supposed to learn the ANBU’s identity.

“ANBU-san, do you –” Iruka began to ask, but he felt a blush saturate his face, stealing his voice away. Instead, he looked over the other man’s porcelain mask, willing him to talk, but the other man stayed still and said nothing. He gritted his teeth just slightly, pained that the ANBU wasn’t just taking control right away. He tried not to grow frustrated, closing his eyes tightly and taking in a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes, the ANBU was much closer, now within a foot of him, but he was still standing at attention. Iruka could barely contain a flinch at the silent speed of the other shinobi. He swallowed the fear that the night could go so very wrong and instead slowly stood at the same time as he reached out in a deliberate, measured movement to rest his open hand on the ANBU’s grey flak jacket. 

“What do you want from me?” He dared ask. Iruka stared into the porcelain fox mask, painfully reluctant to acknowledge that he had no control over the situation and that he was leaving everything up to this unknown Konoha ANBU. His heart pounded frantically in his chest in distant desire. He wanted desperately to feel the other man’s pulse, to see if any of this troubled him, too, or if this was just a part of his regular routine. But all Iruka could feel was the coarse fabric of the flak jacket.

But the ANBU did not reply, and he did not move.

Irritation overcame Iruka’s anxiety, and he gestured pointedly with his other hand at the bed. “Do you want me to take off my clothes and wait for you to wake up?” he demanded in a tone that he realized immediately was a bit too rough. He knew he really shouldn’t be so unsettled or angered, but there were many reasons he hadn’t opened the window for so long, and this was a part of his reticence. Anonymous sex had never interested him: he wanted more eye contact, more knowing whispers in the dark, more soft sighs and sweet laughter. 

The ANBU was evidently observing Iruka’s face and not his hand. If he was considering something, Iruka could not tell what it was. He really thought this whole thing would be easier! Surely, the ANBU knew that Iruka was his for the taking! Did he want him to actually say it out loud? Wasn’t his consent made obvious by the open window?

Iruka found himself quietly asking, his face now gone entirely red, and his hand more tightly gripping the ANBU’s flak jacket: “Are you going to fuck me or –”

The other man moved so quickly that Iruka could have sworn his downcast eyelashes had blocked his vision. His hand was crushed between their chests as the ANBU pressed their bodies together so closely that they seemed more like puzzle pieces perfectly suited to each other. Catching up with the unbelievably fast transition, Iruka’s breath stuck in his throat, and his legs traitorously collapsed. He only stayed upright because the ANBU held him so fully in place. The other man’s body was a solid force against his; he was so stunningly warm that even through all their clothes it made Iruka hot and dazed. 

And his actual mouth was on the side of Iruka’s bare throat.

Iruka’s hand scrambled against the ANBU’s jacket. He realized he had gasped.

“ANBU-san,” he breathed, instinctively moving his head to allow the man better access. However, the other shinobi only confused him further by pressing small, chaste kisses against Iruka’s neck. While he kept them held together, he did nothing further to advance their encounter. 

Delight suddenly curled up Iruka’s spine as the ANBU’s bare nose nuzzled at his earlobe. His arms wrapped even tighter around Iruka, something that a moment ago had seemed impossible. 

His first words were so low and dark that Iruka startled in his firm grasp.

“Iruka-sensei, I have a request.”

“Anything, ANBU-san,” Iruka instantly replied and quickly flushed in embarrassment with how damnably wanton he sounded. It had been too long. He should have been with someone else before – before doing this – whatever this was. Iruka’s free hand pressed on the small of the ANBU’s back out of instinct, and the other man unusually settled back into his palm. Iruka looked resolutely ahead, not wanting to see the bare part of the ANBU’s face, knowing that was certainly against protocol, before he finally relaxed, resting his head on the ANBU’s shoulder.

“I…” 

Iruka’s head jerked upon hearing the hesitation in the elite shinobi’s voice. He shot him a quick glance before he controlled himself and murmured reassuringly, “Whatever you want. It’s fine.”

The ANBU huffed a short, hot breath against Iruka’s neck in response. It sounded almost like a laugh. Iruka suddenly realized that the other man’s hands were not on his ass: he would have thought that would be the ANBU’s first place to grab and conquer. Instead, the ANBU’s right arm was wrapped solidly around Iruka’s waist and his left was swung up and around Iruka’s shoulder, keeping the two of them tightly intertwined. He could feel something shifting in the air – and it took him a long moment to understand that the ANBU was breathing much heavier. It sounded faintly uneven, and Iruka wondered if the man might actually be… nervous? 

Just as Iruka was about to repeat himself, the ANBU said, very close to his ear, “I want you to fuck my mouth and then fuck me.”

Iruka went perfectly still. 

And then all the blood in his body redirected to his groin.

He stammered out in a jumbled rush, “Are you – why would you – you can, you know, you can have anything –” all while the ANBU seemingly naturally resumed kissing his neck with those same soft kisses. Iruka could feel himself melting under the strangely sweet onslaught of his neck, even as a wild, fluttering shock flew throughout his body. 

Unexpectedly, the ANBU licked long, slow, and wet up along Iruka’s neck. He ended by sucking Iruka’s earlobe into his mouth, gently biting down, before letting go. When he spoke, his voice was liquid fire. “You taste good, Iruka-sensei. I want your cock down my throat.”

Iruka breathed out all at once, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, unable to understand at the new crazed tension running through him. Feeling every part of his reaction, the ANBU only laughed against Iruka’s neck. His next series of kisses were more open-mouthed and wet, causing Iruka to gasp into the ANBU’s shoulder and clutch at his vest and back. As Iruka tried to draw his racing thoughts together, he said, bewilderment threading his voice, “But I’m not allowed see your face.”

“You won’t see my full face,” the ANBU replied easily. “You only need my mouth.”

Iruka felt his legs go truly weak at those words. Yet he still pulled his head off the ANBU’s shoulder and moved away from his kisses. He looked fixedly down at their feet shuffled between each other, his bare feet and the ANBU’s scuffed, dirty boots. Trapped within his sleeping pants, his achingly hard cock was demanding sweet acquiescence to the ANBU’s requests, made all the worse by the ANBU’s muscular thigh pressed between Iruka’s legs. He was having a hard time catching his breath, and his fear had become battlefield real.

“I know you won’t hurt me, Iruka-sensei,” the ANBU announced softly.

Iruka instinctively went to look at him in the face. The ANBU moved at that insane speed again, his right arm detangling from Iruka’s shoulder and his hand pulling down his porcelain mask to cover the lower portion of his face. He tilted his head as he gauged Iruka’s expression but of course did not reveal his own. Iruka knew that he must have looked alarmed, if only because the ANBU swiftly brought a gloved hand to touch his cheek and run his thumb gently over Iruka’s jaw as if to comfort him.

Falling back on instinct again, Iruka’s hand came up to cover the ANBU’s bare wrist. There he could feel the other man’s pulse – and it was rapid-fire fast, at the nearly same pace as Iruka’s. 

As he came to appreciate that the elite shinobi was just as panicked and wanting as he was, he made the sudden decision to agree to his request.

“Let me see you,” Iruka said quietly. His face felt permanently reddened in embarrassment and arousal, but the ANBU didn’t seem to notice or care. Instead, he pulled his hand away from Iruka and casually pushed up his porcelain fox mask, exposing the end of his black turtleneck and the bright white skin of his jaw and the lower part of his cheeks. Iruka saw that the ANBU’s lips were thin and pink without either facial hair or scars.

And he smiled luxuriously at Iruka. “See anything you’d like to fuck?”

Iruka instantly pushed him, incredulous at the ANBU’s question and his seemingly indifferent attitude to what was going on between them. Iruka was almost certain that the elite shinobi was not supposed to show even an inch of his face, let alone the lower half of it. An embarrassed fury sparked within him as he heard the ANBU laugh at him again. He went to pull even further away, but the other man reached out to catch him, placing a firm gloved hand over Iruka’s bare bicep. 

“Iruka-sensei, I –”

“Get on your knees,” Iruka found himself saying in a voice he barely knew he possessed. He was completely and utterly mortified by what was happening, but he had opened the window, and he had a duty to Konoha, and he honestly, painfully, really wanted the other man. He had not the slightest idea what this ANBU had done or would do, but the shinobi wanted this specifically, and he wanted Iruka to do this to him... with him. 

It was dizzying to understand, but the ANBU was clear: he wanted to be dominated.

But be gentle, too? What had he said? I know you won’t hurt me, Iruka-sensei.

Iruka watched, fearfully disassociated from himself, as the ANBU obediently and gracefully dropped to his knees. As Iruka touched the waistband of his pants, he found his hands were shaking and he couldn’t move anymore. The sight of the fox-faced porcelain masked shinobi level with his groin was too surreal, and he could feel his arousal start to falter. He must have looked as nervous as he felt because the ANBU carefully brought his hands up to cover Iruka’s at his waist. 

“Let me,” the other man said very quietly.

Iruka could only nod. The heat from the ANBU’s gloved hands poured down into his bare skin. His heart jumped erratically at the touch, then truly clamored in his chest as the ANBU drew Iruka’s pants down his thighs, pooling them at his ankles. Iruka tried to remember both to breathe and not to stare, but his lungs seized up anyway. He was completely fixated on the ANBU’s unfairly pretty mouth as the elite shinobi moved forward towards Iruka’s half-hard cock. Iruka stiffened all over as he felt the first breath against his erection, and his hands went to his sides for fear that he might – 

“You can grab my head, Iruka-sensei,” the ANBU whispered. He licked his lips in lewd anticipation of Iruka’s cock, and he clearly tilted his head upwards at Iruka. He gave a one-shouldered shrug and a low smile. “In fact, I want you to.”

When Iruka didn’t move, so startled by the idea of forcing the ANBU to do anything, the ANBU’s smile changed into a loose grin. He grabbed Iruka’s hands away from Iruka’s newly exposed thighs and brought them firmly on either side of his head. The ANBU forced Iruka’s trembling fingers to press through his silver hair and forcibly settled Iruka’s palms on the rigid porcelain sides of his mask. 

Then, without any further warning, the ANBU leaned forward and took all of Iruka’s cock into his mouth.

Iruka made an undignified sound, a gasp that evolved rapidly into a moan. After a second, he realized that he was gripping the ANBU’s hair instinctively to stabilize himself. The porcelain was frightfully cool to the touch and the man’s silver hair, fine and silky. 

And the shinobi’s mouth was utter vice and sin. 

The ANBU worshipped his cock, there were no other words for it. When the ANBU’s mouth wasn’t fully taking him in, the man’s tongue was lapping at his hard length. He seemed completely unconcerned about Iruka shaking above him and inside him. Iruka could hear himself panting loudly, adding to the wet vulgar sounds coming from the ANBU’s lustful efforts with his cock. Reeling from the sudden encompassing pleasure, Iruka’s hands trembled in the ANBU’s hair, his palms jittery against the porcelain. He bent towards the other man, unable to control his body’s response to such lavish attention. 

Suddenly, the ANBU lifted up on his knees, and Iruka felt the porcelain mask collide with his abdomen – just as he realized the other man’s nose was buried in his pubic hair, Iruka’s cock going down his throat. 

Iruka breathed out in a torrid rush, closing his eyes and clutching onto the ANBU’s hair for dear life. The tight warmth of the ANBU’s mouth was impossibly, unbelievably exquisite. His fingers struggled for purchase in the ANBU’s hair, and his nails dug into the man’s scalp before he knew it. In response, the elite shinobi made a strange, wanton sound around his cock. Iruka’s eyes flashed open. While he couldn’t see the ANBU’s face at all, the fox-face porcelain mask staring up at him instead, he watched the man’s shoulders give a quick peculiar quiver to Iruka’s fisting of his hair.

While a small dangerous part of him wanted the man to stay forever on his cock, Iruka tugged slightly on the shinobi’s silver hair to try and move him away. The man’s hot mouth was unreasonably perfect, but Iruka also thought that the shinobi might be trying to impale himself. But the ANBU only pulled back slightly before repeating the obscene endeavor of deep-throating all of him in one quick movement. Unable to hold himself in check, Iruka moaned at the sensation of tight heat all around him once again, and his hand went wild across the ANBU’s head. He barely got a grip on the other man, the very back of his hair, which he valiantly tried to use to get the shinobi from suffocating on his cock.

Instead, the ANBU moved restlessly underneath him, and Iruka realized with a start that the other man was getting aroused having his hair pulled.

Iruka made a frustrated sound mingled badly with a groan as the ANBU yet again nudged Iruka’s pubic hair with his nose and at the same time ran his tongue along the underside of Iruka’s cock, keeping Iruka trapped in his mouth. He felt far too hot all of a sudden – and a bit sick – thinking that the ANBU might readily hurt himself for Iruka’s pleasure. Without thinking, Iruka jerked back hard on the ANBU’s silver hair. His cock came free of the shinobi’s mouth with a resounding slick pop and bobbed in the air between them.

With his free hand, Iruka immediately reached down between them and grabbed the ANBU under the chin, lifting his face up so he could see the exposed portion. The other man was breathing heavily now that his mouth was liberated from his lustful task. His lips – once thin and pink – were bruised and reddened. As Iruka watched, the ANBU ran a tantalizing tongue across his lower lip before he flexed his jaw and shut it entirely. 

“Do not hurt yourself doing that,” Iruka ordered. He was surprised to find his voice husky but not shuddering; he realized belatedly that he had stopped shaking altogether. Instead, the ANBU was the one trembling, ever so slightly. Iruka looked further down and saw the other man’s gloved hand impatiently dancing over his clothed thigh. The ANBU started forward with Iruka’s fingers still on his chin, but Iruka hastily moved from holding the man’s silver hair to cup the bare portion of his face with both hands.

“Please,” Iruka found himself pleading with the masked shinobi. He felt ridiculous saying anything at all with his glistening-wet cock cheerfully erect between them. The ANBU’s jaw muscles clenched under his hands, and Iruka suddenly realized that he hadn’t said a kind thing to the man after all he had done for him.

At that thought, his fingers moved on their own accord. Iruka brushed over the shinobi’s lips in slow, gentle admiration. “You’re too good at that,” he murmured, flushing at the confession. The ANBU seemed to perk up at his words: his hands went still on his thighs, and his breathing quickly stabilized. Iruka wanted so very badly to see the other man’s eyes, but he knew he really, truly, was not allowed that. Instead, he allowed himself to whisper, “If you want me to do other things with you, you can’t…” He trailed off, unable to say anything else, inexplicably still embarrassed about what was happening between them.

He glanced at his bed before cautiously looking back at the ANBU on his knees in front of him. The elite shinobi’s smile was small, but he was noticeably thrilled with the compliment. He pulled Iruka from his face and repositioned his hands against his mask and in his hair again. “I’ll be better,” he promised, which caused Iruka to nearly erupt in exasperation, because he hadn’t at all meant that the ANBU needed to be better, he meant him to take care of himself!

Still on his knees and eye-level with Iruka’s cock, the ANBU tugged off his gloves and revealed white long-fingered hands. Iruka’s eyebrows flew high on his face as he realized that the shinobi’s right hand wore a recent wound underneath his knuckles. The scarlet-red cut sliced from his index finger down to the bony knob of his wrist and was held together by a series of fine black stitches. 

Iruka’s body went cold. Of course, he had opened his window with the knowledge that a recently returned ANBU would come in, but he hadn’t imagined that the man might still be showing fresh signs of combat. He drifted from the ANBU’s mask, instinctively going to hold the shinobi and examine the newly sewn wound.

But the ANBU had other objectives for his hands, including bringing the injured one to his mouth and licking an obscenely large swath of his palm. He certainly couldn’t see due to the awkward positioning of his mask, but he knowingly smiled, clearly guessing – rightfully so – Iruka’s aroused and alarmed expression at his action. Moving much more slowly than before, the ANBU wrapped his hand around Iruka’s cock, sending chills straight up Iruka’s spine. The pressure was perfect, and the sensation bitingly sweet, as the ANBU stroked him several sure times. 

Still touching him, the ANBU then leaned forward and delicately licked the head of Iruka’s cock.

Iruka embarrassed himself by doing two things: first, moaning at a higher pitch than he possibly ever had in his life, and secondly, clutching a fistful of the ANBU’s hair. As he went to drop the man’s silver locks, startled that he’d become accustomed to pulling his hair so quickly, he saw the full reaction of the ANBU beneath him.

The elite shinobi’s lips parted just slightly, and he gave the very faintest whine of pleasure.

Iruka feared he might die that he loved that sight so much, but he instead said, “Do that again.”

The ANBU fought back a wicked smile before he rolled out his tongue, just barely touching the underneath of Iruka’s hard cock. The same thing happened as before, except this time Iruka contained his own sound of excitement, wanting to hear the ANBU better. His hand jerked instinctively, pulling the other man away from him, and the shinobi went with the motion, exposing his own throat and making a much clearer and darker moan.

Iruka’s other hand went straight to the ANBU’s throat, though not so fast to trigger the other man’s reflexes. His fingers spread downwards on that fragile expanse, shoving the black cloth down further. He marveled at the strong muscles under such pale skin. A vague, distant part of him was screaming in shock: he was forcibly holding an ANBU by his hair away from his erection like it was completely acceptable! But he truly wanted to see the man’s throat from this angle, where those quiet moans were coming from, and he found him so truly alluring.

And he was definitely not going to face any negative repercussions, that he knew, because in contrast to his own reservations, the ANBU’s breath was coming much harder now. His mouth was still open, and a faint blush on his lower cheeks revealed how greatly he was aroused. Every once and a while, his pink tongue darted out and pushed against his bruised bottom lip. 

Some obscene instinct took over Iruka. He stepped forward, over the ANBU’s bent knees, and his spare hand came around his cock. His heart was pounding so violently in his ears that he could barely imagine anything possibly else making sound. He could see the ANBU’s rapid breathing, and he knew he himself must be practically panting, but he could only hear the insistent blaring beat of his heart in his ears. The ANBU clearly sensed Iruka moving, and he must have felt the change in Iruka’s hold of his hair. The shinobi’s bare hands twitched on the ground far below Iruka, and his breath suddenly came in torrents against Iruka’s cock.

In what might have been the most embarrassing and empowering moment of his life, Iruka guided his cock toward the ANBU’s open mouth –

– and then tried not to faint as the ANBU relaxed his jaw and accepted the forceful entry past his bruised lips. 

Iruka forced himself with insane self-control to be good and gentle to the other man. He held his hair far more tightly than he might want but clearly at the strength level that the ANBU desired. He stepped forward just slightly, and his cock pushed deeper into the ANBU’s wet, waiting mouth. He knew he must have gasped because the ANBU gave a distinct hum around his cock that Iruka registered after a second as a short laugh. He fought the instinct to be angry with the other man’s careless attitude and instead pressed much more firmly into the man.

The ANBU startled at the sudden motion, which darkly pleased Iruka, he was almost sorry to realize. But the elite shinobi took in his cock with indecent grace, although his breath from his nose was suddenly heavier and his jaw trembled just the tiniest bit. 

And then Iruka pushed the final last inch, and the porcelain hit his abdomen again, and he could feel the ANBU’s breath huffing against his pubic hair, and the ANBU’s wickedly tight, warm mouth enveloping all of his cock. 

Iruka’s whisper was all flushed admiration, his voice strained. “You are perfect.”

He nearly lost his grip on the other man when the ANBU instantly shook, just once, and, unable to both moan and keep Iruka’s cock down his throat, he pulled away. Iruka quickly dropped his hair, but the ANBU snatched his hand out of the air with incomprehensible speed and strength. The shinobi inelegantly yanked Iruka downwards, and a sharp flash of fear tore through Iruka. He’d gone too far, he knew it..!

But the ANBU forced Iruka on his knees only to embrace him roughly and press his wet mouth at Iruka’s ear, the ridge of the porcelain mask pushing painfully into Iruka’s neck. His words came out coarse and swirled through Iruka in dark beautiful waves. “You should fuck me now.”

Iruka numbly nodded in response, and the ANBU detached from him smoothly, showing no effort at the rapid movement. The shinobi pulled down his mask to conceal his face as he stood up. Iruka’s gaze suddenly fixed on the bulging outline of the ANBU’s erection in his standard-issue pants. Blushing at the sight, Iruka averted his eyes, a thousand thoughts flying through his mind. He had enjoyed all that – too much maybe – but seeing and knowing that the ANBU had been getting hard through all of that… submission… 

Iruka suddenly realized with a violent start that his window was still open.

He shot to his feet, kicking off his pants as he stumbled forward. He hurried past the ANBU, who watched him with evident surprise that slid into amusement. Iruka found himself babbling about what he was doing, even though it was ridiculously obvious and ultimately his fault, “Oh, I forgot to close the window! I’m so sorry about that, I…” As he turned around, having pulled the curtains shut, he found his bedroom markedly much darker.

And the ANBU was naked on his bed.

Iruka swayed for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the surreal but magnificent vision in front of him. The elite shinobi was absurdly pale with moonlight white skin, but Iruka could easily see lines of pink and dark scars across his body. There were vicious signs of all sorts of weapons and a few traumatic jutsus, as well as years of rough experience outside the village. The ANBU bordered on being thin, especially in comparison to Iruka, but it was the position that he was currently in that most overwhelmed Iruka.

The ANBU was on all fours, his hand between his legs, preparing himself.

Iruka fell back against his closed window, his chest heaving. The sight was too good. It was frightful and unexpected and too good. He was sharply aware of how much his body was demanding that he move quickly, grab the other man, and fuck him senseless. It was unsettling: he had never been aggressive with his other partners, but – but this was nothing like the other men and women that he had been with, not by any stretch of the imagination.

In an intoxicated haze, he walked forward, reaching the side of the bed. Iruka could better see the ANBU’s bare throat with his turtleneck gone but not his face. The white-and-red porcelain mask was fully in place, covering the entirety of the man’s face, but his silver hair was much more accessible. While some dumb part of him wanted to pet the other man’s head, in some strange comforting question to see if he was okay, Iruka’s arousal controlled him instead, and his hand betrayed him by touching the ANBU’s bare hipbone. At the sudden intimate contact, the elite shinobi’s head ducked down, and his hand moved a few more times before he put it parallel with his other hand, returning to all fours.

The ANBU’s breath was tight, and with his whole body on display, Iruka could plainly see that he was terribly aroused and that he truly wanted this… he wanted Iruka.

Iruka felt a ridiculous blush come over his face as he wondered if he could look down and see the ANBU’s cock, but he dutifully rushed over those thoughts. The shinobi wanted to be fucked, not admired. Iruka tentatively took to the bed and automatically found himself behind the ANBU. He realized by his leg was the vial of lubricant that the other man had been using, and, feeling totally drunk and out-of-body, he put the slick stuff over his still-hard cock. 

The ANBU was stupidly pretty from this angle. His body was slender but powerful, his skin so very white but also so thoroughly scarred. His hair was lovely like real silver but the hint of his porcelain mask radiated all the danger in the world. Sudden anxiety tore through Iruka: he didn’t want to take the man without saying anything else to him. But his voice was stuck like a stone in his throat, choking him, keeping him from suggesting further foreplay. 

Isn’t this what he wants?

Iruka guided his cock towards the ANBU’s prepared hole, as he rested one hand firmly on the junction of the other man’s waist and hip. Both men tensed as they made contact, and, ignoring the violent demand from some part of him to stop now, Iruka pushed inside. The ANBU’s back went straight, and his head came up. Iruka could see his hands clenching the bedsheets. Underneath his one hand, he could feel the ripple of strong muscles in the ANBU’s body as he adjusted to Iruka’s cock within him. Iruka certainly took his time sheathing himself fully in the ANBU, if only because he was beginning to feel the real terrifying worry that this was not right. 

It was all made so much worse because the ANBU was unbelievably gorgeous being taken.

The ANBU’s first loud moan shocked Iruka so much that he pulled back hard on the man’s waist, forcing himself back inside at a rougher, quicker pace than he had intended. The elite shinobi echoed himself with another choked moan, adding the new faint hint of profanity, being the subject of Iruka’s mistake. Iruka could barely handle it all: his cock was beyond delighted with the tight heat overwhelming his arousal once again, but the rest of his body was literally in backward protest. As much as the ANBU was an astonishing sight, all scarred white skin and lean muscles and bright silver hair, all for Iruka, all for him, he was increasingly repulsed by the anonymity and the ugly way that a small dark part of him wanted just to take, take, take.

He wasn’t terribly surprised with himself when he pulled out entirely and roughly handled both of the ANBU’s bare hips in a forceful attempt to turn him and put him on his back. However, it was more than a little unsettling to find how little his efforts succeeded: the ANBU was so excruciatingly stronger, having locked himself into place, Iruka really could not push him around. But the ANBU must have noticed Iruka’s insistence, because he eventually moved seamlessly onto his back, spreading his legs wide, obviously putting his whole body on display for Iruka.

Although Iruka’s eyes darted between the ANBU’s legs, keenly appreciating the sight of the other man’s hard red-flushed cock, Iruka had other plans beyond taking the man again so soon.

Instead, Iruka quickly straddled the ANBU’s thighs, forcibly closing his legs, which obviously only happened because the other man chose to do so. He finally, purposefully, yanked off his shirt: now they were both totally nude to each other, except the ANBU’s ever-constant mask. Forcing himself to be brave, Iruka leaned forward, watching the ANBU become alert his new proximity. Their cocks made contact, and both men made sounds at the hot, wondrous sensation. Iruka’s throat unstuck itself long enough for him to give a heaving breath against the other man’s neck. His arms went over the ANBU’s shoulders, his fingers tangling themselves in that silver hair again. Almost instinctively, the ANBU’s own hands went to Iruka’s back, and he could feel them instantaneously locate the outrageous scar on his back. He trembled at the sensation of nimble fingers running the length of the rough scar. Dizzy at how close he was to the ANBU’s face, Iruka nuzzled against the man’s pale jaw he’d so enjoyed a moment earlier.

He willed himself to be audible as he asked hopefully, “Can I kiss you?”

The ANBU must have registered his question after a moment because his hands went from tracing Iruka’s immense back scar to stilling suddenly, staying resolutely in place. Pressed against him so intimately, Iruka felt the man go motionless all over. He wondered fearfully if the man was even breathing, and, in a moment of panic, Iruka kissed the soft part under the ANBU’s chin and nearly soundlessly requested, “Please?”

It happened in slow motion, but it happened: the ANBU lifted his right hand from Iruka’s back and carefully pushed back his porcelain mask back just enough that Iruka could see his mouth again. His lips were pressed together, tightly, too tightly. He was clearly straining to control himself, though from doing or not doing what, Iruka wasn’t sure in the slightest.

But he took opportunity of the moment, and he kissed the ANBU on the mouth.

At first, the other man was unrelenting, unmoving, but Iruka tilted his head, ignoring the weird jab of porcelain against his eyebrow and kissed him again, more firmly. The second kiss had more insistence to it, certainly, but Iruka tried to push some of his worry into it, too. 

Is that really what you want? 

We can do more. I want to do more.

The ANBU responded tentatively, relaxing his lips, and Iruka found himself in control of the kiss almost entirely. He moved his hands to hold onto the ANBU’s head, half his mask, half his hair, and poured all of his wants into the third kiss. Of course he wanted to fuck the other man, but not like that – he deserved more than that! Iruka found the ANBU releasing tension in his shoulders, in his arms, in his hands. His fingers moved from Iruka’s scar to fiercely gripping Iruka’s upper back, pulling him down further to press their chests firmly together. 

When the ANBU finally surged upwards to kiss Iruka in return, Iruka breathily laughed before their kiss turned into a passionate struggle for dominance. He wouldn’t have had it any other way, he realized. The ANBU was the first to lick at Iruka’s mouth, and his tongue desperately tangled with Iruka’s. They both ignored the bizarre discomfort of the porcelain mask preventing full contact. Iruka was definitely getting marks and maybe even bruises from his face pushing against its edge. He knew the ANBU himself certainly couldn’t see with the eyeholes shoved into his hair. Their kissing was too distracting, too delicious, to really care about any of that. 

Iruka pulled slightly away, and the ANBU made a distant whine of disappointment.

Hearing himself, the elite shinobi completely stiffened.

A smile instantly overtook Iruka’s face as he stared down at the other man. The ANBU literally had not moved; he looked absolutely stricken with himself. Instead of letting the other man wither away in embarrassment, Iruka pressed down a soft kiss on the corner of the man’s lips and admitted quietly, “I like kissing you, too.” He removed his hands, spreading them down the ANBU’s bare chest, pausing here and there to touch scars both light and serious. Iruka continued, his tone turning more thoughtful, “I want to see you when I… fuck you.” The vulgarity did not roll off his tongue, but he pushed onwards, anyway. “I want to see all this.” 

As Iruka watched his own hand fall closer to the ANBU’s straining cock, he moved back, releasing the ANBU’s thighs and putting himself under the other man’s legs. The ANBU moved easily, clearly understanding the transition, but his lips were still slightly parted and he breathed roughly, all due to their kissing. The earlier blush had reappeared on his lower cheeks. Iruka observed the ANBU’s partly revealed face with great, mischievous interest as his hand wrapped around the ANBU’s hard cock. The other man pushed the back of his head further into the bed, and he bit down his lower lip, restraining a strangled sound of pleasure at the touch. 

Iruka felt himself lighting up, seeing the ANBU’s excitement. Without thinking, he swung lower, and his mouth took in the other man’s cock, not all of it, but enough that he was thrilled with the hot hard thing against his tongue. The ANBU’s hands, which had moved back to the bedsheets, flew to Iruka’s shoulders and gripped him so hard that tiny bright flashes of pain signaled to Iruka that this was an obscenely powerful person laying prone underneath him. 

It seemed for a second that the ANBU might say something – Iruka could have sworn he said something – but Iruka remained where he was, enjoying the other man’s cock in his mouth. He appreciated the feel of his wet tongue on the solid heat of the ANBU. He loved the masculine woodsy scent of the man’s arousal, and he was secretly very delighted that the ANBU had short, clipped silver pubic hair. 

After he began to get dizzy, Iruka sat back up and made the playful comment, “You taste good, too.” He gazed down at the wondrous mess that he had left the ANBU: the man’s lean muscular chest was rising and falling at a swift pace, his head was fully back so Iruka could see the shadows of his upper cheeks and nose, and his hard cock was glorious and glistening with salvia. 

Iruka found himself smiling widely. That’s better.

He repositioned himself, and the ANBU clearly was more than willing to resume, because he immediately wrapped his legs around Iruka and pushed him inside. Iruka might have laughed a little at the man’s insistence but he swiftly lost all the breath in his lungs at how impossibly good it felt being inside the ANBU now that the man was actually relaxed. His hands relocated to hold onto the ANBU’s waist, pressing down his hipbones, and he fucked him slowly, enjoying every deliberate thrust into the other man. Underneath him, the ANBU was so much more active than he had been on all fours: he shifted constantly, his legs bruising Iruka’s back, his hands fluttering from Iruka’s wrists to stroking his own cock to clutching the bedsheets.

In a perverse moment that lit a fire in Iruka’s heart, the ANBU threw his head back in a wordless moan as Iruka hit that perfect spot inside him, and his long fingers threaded rapidly in his own hair, as if in total disbelief at how good it was getting fucked. 

Iruka knew he had probably lost his mind, but his hand flashed down between them and landed on the ANBU’s shoulder, completely surprising the man unable to see. He tried pulling him up, but the ANBU held still for a moment before relinquishing control and going with the movement. As the elite shinobi carefully sat upwards, Iruka adjusted one of his legs, keeping one bent but partially getting into a sitting position. He held onto the other man’s shoulder, feeling the ANBU’s legs work around him into slightly bent positions. 

Iruka buried his face in the ANBU’s neck, breathing roughly, his eyes closed. The feel of the other man around his cock and all around him was obscene, unreasonable, unbelievable. He wasn’t going to last much more, but he wanted –

“Let me kiss you again,” he whispered into the ANBU’s skin.

As Iruka moved to go through with his request, the ANBU must have felt the now-familiar uncomfortable pressure of Iruka’s face pushing against the porcelain mask, because his hand came up at a ridiculous speed and suddenly grabbed the center of the mask. Iruka watched his fingers with abrupt shock: it was obvious what was about to happen, but his brain, so very much relishing all the feelings of the lean muscular powerful man riding his cock, could barely keep up with what he should do or say next. 

Instead, Iruka slammed his eyes shut. A moment later, the ANBU’s lithe hands clutched at the sides of Iruka’s face, and he crashed a thunderous kiss down on Iruka. It was instantaneously clear that the ANBU no longer was wearing his mask. His full nose pushed into Iruka’s cheek as he kissed him deeply. The ANBU rubbed his bare cheek against the stunned Iruka as he corrected their positions again and then started fucking himself on Iruka’s cock. 

The ANBU was swiftly kissing him, open-mouthed, and swallowing down Iruka’s moans at the new obscene blissed-out sensation of getting thoroughly used by the elite shinobi.

Iruka kept his hands on the ANBU’s waist and hips, assisting in the labor, although he could plainly tell that his effort was not needed anymore. Instead, after a room-spinning moment, he decided to grab the ANBU’s cock and enjoy every tiny segment of the sensation of getting him off. The ANBU laughed against his lips at Iruka’s choice before rolling his hips in the most indecent manner that Iruka had ever felt in his life in seeming delighted approval of him. In instinctive response, Iruka gripped him harder, dazed at the shocking full feeling around his cock. The new pressure caused the ANBU to groan, his breath hot and torrid against Iruka’s mouth, and he started moving even quicker with a strength that might have scared Iruka in any other circumstance.

In this moment, Iruka’s moans were jumbled and incoherent. He was violently glad to keep his eyes closed, the whole thing was too insane, surreal, and good for him to understand. His hand moved tight and rapid on the ANBU’s cock, and he suddenly moved his lips forward, clumsily bumping into the ANBU’s mouth. Iruka kissed him roughly before biting down hard on the ANBU’s lower lip, and his free hand snuck up to grab a fistful of that pretty silver hair. 

The ANBU’s cock instantly spasmed in his hand, and the ANBU let out a choked moan against Iruka’s mouth as he came. If Iruka had thought he was totally flushed and hot, he had no idea, because the sensation of the ANBU coming while Iruka was still fucking him was incredible, and it was made all the frighteningly more heightened by the ANBU’s short gasps of pleasure spreading obscenely against Iruka’s lips. 

Iruka only thrust into him a few more times before it all became far too much, and he reached beyond himself, the world going white, as he finally found his orgasm. He dropped his hand from the ANBU’s hair for fear he’d rip him to pieces and instead clutched him way too roughly on the shoulder, relishing the feel of thick muscle and solid bone under his fingers. He shivered uncontrollably when the ANBU leaned further into him, pressing his bare face against Iruka’s, and remarked darkly into his ear through the last sigh of his orgasm, “You’re too fucking beautiful.”

As pleasure slowly slid away from them, the ANBU removed himself, audibly dropping back on the bed, and Iruka imagined that he did the same in parallel. He kept his eyes closed, though not as tightly, as his climax receded and the wear and tear of their sex finally caught up with him. Iruka could feel his breath evening, but he slumped further back on the bed before finally giving up entirely and laying down. He reached out after a moment and the ANBU’s right hand answered him. Not willing to see the ANBU in his totally exposed state, Iruka couldn’t help but touch the brand-new stitches by the man’s knuckles while he came back to reality. He realized what he was doing after a lazy minute or so, and he released the ANBU’s hand in rising embarrassment. 

The bedroom, smelling of sex, was silent.

Iruka wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he finally sat up on the bed. His eyes were still closed, and he tried to use his other senses to determine what state the ANBU was in. When he heard a sound by the window, Iruka turned his head sharply. 

“You can open your eyes, Iruka-sensei,” came the soft, exhausted words of the ANBU.

For just a second, Iruka was absolutely surprised to see that the elite shinobi – a moment ago so nude and bare to him, vulnerable and wanting and in ecstasy – was back to being fully dressed, flak jacket and fox-faced mask and more. He was slouched near the curtain-drawn window. In a moment of heated recognition, Iruka realized that the ANBU had been watching him for some time after they had separated, after Iruka had stopped touching his hand. He couldn’t muster total humiliation, though, because the ANBU seemed to be looking fondly at him rather than in a detached, distant way that might make Iruka feel as used as he had feared he would be.

“Please be safe,” Iruka found himself saying. The words instantly troubled him: the other man had just returned from a mission, he wouldn’t have one right away. Would he? He wondered at what pace ANBU were actually being sent out – and how much time his ANBU would have to rest and recover – and –

The ANBU nodded almost imperceptibly at him. With deliberate slowness, the elite shinobi opened the curtains and window, before, with all the grace in the world, he crouched on the window sill and flitted away.

Iruka tried not to faint from the speed of their encounter. But he soon realized that he didn’t actually know how long that the ANBU had been with him. He stood up, totally nude, and, feeling a little embarrassed, closed the window and curtains again. Turning to his nightstand, Iruka flipped the lightswitch on so he could better find his alarm clock, which he’d tossed earlier on the ground, its red lights unsettling him as he waited for someone to come for him. 

As he looked around his bedroom, most of his brain was unwilling to think about what just happened. After a while, Iruka glanced up across his disheveled bed.

He went totally still as he realized there was fresh red blood staining his bedsheets.

Looking down at himself, he finally saw that he, too, had blood on his skin, particularly his flaccid cock. On desperate impulse, Iruka raced to the bathroom and threw himself into the shower. After scrubbing his groin clean, he finally confronted the dark, sinking understanding that it wasn’t his blood at all. 

It was the ANBU’s blood.

He had hurt the ANBU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued, from a certain ANBU's perspective...


	2. Chapter 2

Kakashi felt tired down to his bones. He knew he was back in Konoha – the streets, the rooves, the people were so familiar, his body relaxed intuitively – but his eyes remained fixed on Manaka trailing blood as she flew across the village. She was younger than him by more than a few years, which had shown as they finally found their target. He was primarily the enforcer, and she, the distraction. The kill had been efficient: Manaka played coy in the bar before drawing him outside into a koi garden, which seemed all too appropriate. She paralyzed the target with a chakra-infused kiss, an unusual jutsu that Kakashi had copied a while ago, although he could not imagine when he would ever need to use it. Kakashi carefully used taijutsu to keep the man’s death silent, but his absence had been noted, and his bodyguards were not remotely amused to find him headless.

Manaka had managed decently until the last surviving bodyguard applied a Flying Swallow ninjutsu to his blade and caught her on the left shoulder, moving downwards fast. Kakashi rapidly came up behind her, pulling her away the attack. Instead of delving deep into Manaka’s breast and heart, the chakra-amplified dagger had sliced through the metal, cloth, and flesh of his right hand. He didn’t lose feeling in it, but he did watch with distant interest as a spray of red blood spurted in the air as he completed his final jutsu and the man’s body convulsed with electricity. He tugged Manaka away from the massacre while taking note of her injury: she was able to move well enough, and she said very little to him, but he had gotten a glimpse of the clean edges of a few cut ribs under pulsing waves of blood. They didn’t have to go far to return to Konoha, but Kakashi forcibly stopped her so he could tend to her wound with a rushed healing jutsu and tight bandaging. As he did so, Manaka continued to stay silent, and her face had gone peculiar and pale. Kakashi did not bother her with questions about her pain level and instead moved them along, wordlessly forcing her ahead of him. 

She finally lost unconsciousness in Konoha. He saw her slip on the slate roof, her body going slack, and she hit the street below with a solid thump. Skidding to stop, Kakashi swung down to the ground a moment later to retrieve her. He knew he was moving in a haze of sleep deprivation and shooting threads of pain from his hand injury, but he had already determined that he would carry Manaka to the hospital by himself. After all, she had a long-term partner – not that Kakashi had watched them or anything… He knew the man was waiting for her at home.

Kakashi gathered Manaka in his arms. She was bleeding messily through the gauze. With his hands on her, he could feel the sharp protrusion of ribs sticking outside of her chest. As he went to jump back onto the rooftop, he noticed for the first time there was another person in the street with them.

Konoha was safe, so he bit down the instinct to throw a shuriken at the individual.

He turned to identify the person and saw it was Umino Iruka. 

Kakashi knew his killing intent must still be exuding, if only slightly, but he had little ability to rein it in with Manaka pouring blood onto his hands and uniform. Instead, he watched as Iruka dropped his hands, bowed his head, and gave them space. 

How polite… and intelligent.

“ANBU-san,” he heard the teacher say in a deferential tone. 

Kakashi felt a slight smile quirk on his lips, far below his cloth and porcelain mask. Oh, Iruka-sensei, you really are something. Moving in a different sort of daze, he returned to the roof-top with Manaka in his arms and found himself in the hospital in seemingly no time at all. As soon as he entered the hospital corridor, two medical-nin warily approached him. They asked a few questions, all of which he answered unthinkingly, his tone flat. As they took Manaka away, he stared emptily at the fat droplets of her red blood now dotting the linoleum. A brave but foolish medical-nin stepped forward to tend to his hand. Kakashi soundlessly removed his armor and glove, not looking at anything, and stood still while the man pushed healing chakra into his hand. He could vaguely feel the muscle sliding back together, the odd twitch of nerves and bone combining once again. Soon the medical-nin was stitching the rest of the wound shut, sliding black metal thread through pale skin.

But Kakashi’s thoughts were back in the street with Iruka-sensei.

He hadn’t seen Iruka in some time. It was partially due the relentless series of missions that the Hokage had taken to giving him at every available opportunity. Furthermore, their shared students had dispersed, and Kakashi had made himself scarce as well. He harbored a heavy weight of guilt about Sasuke; he knew should feel some pride in Naruto and Sakura, but he more frequently thought of his losses than his successes, as he always had. 

However, Iruka was something different. He had known the teacher long before Naruto arrived at the Academy. He actually had known him before Iruka made chuunin at sixteen, although he wasn’t sure how much Iruka really remembered him. In his youth, Kakashi had wandered Konoha, observing his little world, and Iruka had been one of those figures that he had noticed, if only because he seemed just a bit too warm and kind for the violence that Kakashi had accepted as normal. It seemed all the stranger when Kakashi had learned Iruka had been orphaned, his parents killed by the Nine-Tails, and he still was able to radiate such affability and generosity. 

Kakashi walked away from the medical-nin, who was saying something inane to him, and slipped outside the hospital. He was back on the rooves in an instant.

Iruka-sensei... 

He knew where he was going immediately. He had been there before, three times, and he ignored the brief throbbing panic that he was about to chance a visit again.

Iruka’s apartment, to see if his window was open.

It was stupid and pointless. The sensei never left his window open. Well, he hadn’t yet, anyway. During the year-and-a-half that the whispered protocol had taken hold in Konoha, Iruka had been the object of more than a little bit of attention from ANBU. Kakashi knew, of course, being ANBU, but he was well aware other masked jounin were also interested in the teacher. 

He himself had visited once very soon after the rule went into effect. Iruka’s window had been firmly shut, the curtains drawn, and Kakashi had stared for a long time. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he wanted from Iruka in that moment, anyway. Later he would admit to himself it would have been a terrible encounter, that he would have embarrassed himself. He knew that to be true because he had instead found a jounin’s open window and let himself into that man’s bedroom, still spreading killing intent like stormclouds where he went. 

The jounin – who Kakashi knew outside of the mask, though the man certainly did not realize he was with Hatake Kakashi of the Sharingan – had placated him rather well initially, being perfectly reverent and submissive and taking cock however Kakashi felt like it at the moment. But somewhere after he had shoved the jounin onto the bed and began pounding into the man’s finely muscled form, he saw that he was leaving finger-shaped bruises all over him. It hadn’t startled him into stopping, but later when he was alone in his shower, he touched his bare fingertips together and wondered if it was wise to release ANBU on their own people. 

He had seen the jounin the following day – not on purpose, of course… The other man had been eating a rice and salmon breakfast with two of his friends: he looked notably tired, was a bit slow to respond to comments. When the jounin leaned back in the booth and his sleeves pulled up just slightly, Kakashi saw some of the bruises that he had left. He watched as the jounin winced at the movement and his friends gave him pitying, knowing side-glances.

Kakashi hadn’t utilized any open windows since.

But he had visited Iruka’s apartment again, two more times, after returning from ANBU missions.

The second time was months later, when he was high on painkillers. He knew very well that he was high on painkillers, of course: the medical-nin had shoved in the IV of opiates almost as soon as he crossed the hospital threshold. He must have looked sick entering Konoha, even though he didn’t feel it. His ANBU partner had not survived, and he had returned alone. He was counting the ceiling tiles as the medical-nin reset both his broken arm and leg; he had started numbering the objects in the room when they finished a four-man healing jutsu on the long sword cut across his right side. Kakashi had glanced down at his newly reformed body through his ANBU mask, pushed a medical-nin away by directly shoving her face, and flitted away so quickly that he had to jerk the IV out of his arm and leave it behind on the hospital roof-top.

He studied Konoha for an extended period. So many open windows. So many oblivious civilians, genin, chuunin, even jounin. All blissfully unaware of what was being done for them. What had happened tonight. How a jounin’s body was now burnt and vanished. He felt so very little that when he miscalculated a jump and crashed into a branch of the tree outside Iruka’s apartment and slumped down and tasted blood that he wasn’t really sure if he cared.

Iruka’s window was closed, like before. Kakashi wondered through the blanket fog of painkillers and poor existence what it would be like to be with Iruka-sensei. 

Surely, Iruka wouldn’t let Kakashi manhandle him like the jounin had. After all, Iruka was one of the few people to ever stand up to Kakashi. His shouts in defense of his students, in defense of Naruto, in front of the Hokage and everyone, had truly surprised Kakashi. No one talked to him with that much disrespect except naïve children and the enemy. Although he had flatly refuted Iruka’s comments in public, he knew that the teacher was neither a child nor his enemy. Iruka’s fierce, even fearless, rebuttal of the students’ nomination had distantly amused and intrigued some significant portion of Kakashi. How interesting to have such passion about the future, about the safety of others, while living secluded within the village itself. 

Would Iruka be as passionate in bed? Would he tell Kakashi what to do, expect him to do it? Would he pull Kakashi towards him, inquire with a sweet dangerous edge what Kakashi was doing there and what he wanted? 

Sitting in the tree outside Iruka’s apartment, hours after midnight, Kakashi barely moved. He strenuously thought through the possibilities of a sexual encounter with Iruka-sensei. Sometimes there were keen moments of clarity: Iruka would not tolerate Kakashi laughing at him, he would not like that, he might even slap him. Other times, when Kakashi knew between the pain and the drugs that he was absurdly high, his strategic visions became all wonky and overly explicit and painfully arousing.

He imagined Iruka scolding him, roughly, before pulling him into a hard kiss, which made no sense, of course Kakashi would be wearing mask on mask, but the image seemed real in his head, and he liked it quite a lot. For a while, he toyed with the idea of Iruka being submissive, as if Kakashi was putting him in his rightful place, but he soon rejected the idea. He could have anyone in the village, especially being ANBU, and they all would do the same thing: go down on their knees, opening their mouths, opening their bodies. 

Kakashi shrugged it away. He didn’t want any of that, not with Iruka.

So what did he want?

The blurry vision of Iruka grabbing a tight fistful of Kakashi’s hair, shoving him down, pushing his cock in Kakashi’s face, darkly ordering, “Suck it, that’s all you’re good for,” caught up with Kakashi far too quickly. He realized he was hotly flushed in the darkness of the tree underneath his double masks, and he dazedly looked down at his erection insistently tenting his pants. 

Oh. He wanted that from Iruka. Okay.

Somehow, Kakashi had gotten away from Iruka-sensei’s apartment for the second time. He knew he had made it home at some point because he woke up in his still-running shower, the water gone freezing cold. He thought for only the briefest of seconds about Iruka before his cock answered with steel-intense hardness and, in a jumbled haze, Kakashi slowly stroked himself to the thought of Iruka dominating him.

He had been fucked before, of course. Not by an acquaintance or stranger jounin. He would never admit it to a single soul, but he had been fucked before. While he was thinking of Iruka grabbing his hips and sinking into him, he could easily put the physicality of being fucked into his imagination. It would be different with Iruka, because Iruka was not Might Guy, and they would not be fucking at the end of a week-long training session, and Iruka would not have the impossible, perhaps divine, capacity to restrain Kakashi against an oak tree and whisper filthy, exhausted things in his ear and take him with all the pent-up energy of a decade of competition. But still… Kakashi knew it could be something like that. 

He was conflicted about positions, but he eventually went with what he knew. Iruka taking him from behind, using him, enjoying him, taking what he wanted. After he pulled himself into a sitting position, he knew that with the cold water crashing against him, his body should have had difficulty maintaining arousal, but he found that wasn’t the case at all. Instead, his cock jumped in his hand as he thought of Iruka-sensei slamming into him in too-hard thrusts, biting down on Kakashi’s lean shoulder and groaning Kakashi’s name into his skin. 

The clarity after orgasm always surprised Kakashi.

He blinked a few times at the cum going down the drain and then looked at his wilting cock.

Well, well, Iruka-sensei.

It had been just two months later when he looped back from his apartment and visited Iruka’s home for a third time. He wasn’t high on pain and painkillers, nor was he unsure of himself like he had been the first time. Instead, Kakashi realized far too keenly that he was strung out on adrenaline, running a near state of mania. He was twitchy with violence and energy: the mission had gone so smoothly that he had nearly lightning jutsued a passing bird on the way back he was so on edge. It wasn’t good for an ANBU to be so energetic, one of the reasons for the open windows, and Kakashi had the near-giddy passing thought that maybe his luck would change.

It was an insane thought, he knew, but why not try again?

But the whole thing had turned very quickly against him, because when he arrived at Iruka’s apartment, several hours after sunset, he had actually found the teacher’s curtains slightly open, even though his window remained firmly shut. Kakashi had stayed in the tree, puzzling through what it meant, but with the agitation of the mission, he had trouble staying realistic about things.

Instead, he rapidly decided that another ANBU had gotten there before him, discovered that Iruka-sensei had finally opened the window, and had gone inside and fucked Iruka. When Kakashi finally realized that he could actually see Iruka sleeping in his bed through the curtains, a ferocious storm of jealousy coursed through him and snapped into killing intent. Kakashi very nearly went to grab himself in an attempt to contain the burst of homicidal chakra but chose instead to throw himself away from Iruka’s apartment. 

He was in the Forest of Death in rapid order. The leftover excitement from his ANBU mission quickly translated into running routes over unfamiliar territory, bounding from tree to tree, forcing himself into exhaustion. At some point, he started using chakra and then abusing chakra and then overusing chakra, all the way until it was suddenly sunrise and he was laying on his back in the grotesque throes of chakra depletion. 

Kakashi had been unable to outrun his fear that Iruka-sensei had finally opened his window, and that he had missed it. Staring up at the racing pinks and orange of the rising sun, he couldn’t catch his breath or move his body, but his mind still tore through traitorous thoughts.

Everything he didn’t want Iruka to do… what if he had done it? 

He could see the teacher on his knees, reluctantly taking a cock in his mouth. Iruka wincing as some ANBU forced him to accept more of it. Iruka pushing his luck, resisting, only for the ANBU to do what all ANBU did at one time or another – push back, restrain, take. 

Another part of Kakashi wondered if it hadn’t been like that at all, if instead Iruka had been the model of perfection first imagined when the open window policy started. If Iruka was all soft, warm skin and long, lingering kisses. If his scars felt as interesting as they looked – not just the one across his face, but the large one on his back. If Iruka had calmed down the ANBU, soaked him in a soothing care so affectionate it could be called… 

Deep in the Forest of Death, Kakashi had closed his eyes.

He wanted Iruka-sensei. He wanted him badly.

It made no difference in the larger scheme of things. Kakashi told no one about his recent preoccupation, not that anyone would have asked him about such intimate matters. He still competed with Guy, who remained the very pinnacle of honor, never remotely alluding to their one-time encounter. Kakashi spent his free time wandering the village, hanging out in trees, reading Icha Icha for the thousandth time. He completed missions of all kinds, and that caused him to see Iruka every once and a while, much to his inner turmoil. The teacher was always very kind to him; he’d even stopped reprimanding Kakashi about his sloppy paperwork. It really seemed that he had fully forgiven Kakashi for their fight those years ago. Iruka had even asked if Kakashi was doing well during his latest report submission. Of course, Kakashi had given his usual eye-smile and shrug, easing away from a difficult admission. But Iruka had been rather dogged, much to his surprise, and he saw the teacher nearly reach for his hand before he stopped himself. 

And now Kakashi had seen Iruka-sensei as a returning ANBU, and Iruka had seen him, even if he didn’t know who it was he had encountered. That had never happened before. Of course, during his third visit, Kakashi had caught sight of Iruka through the curtain, but Iruka had not seen him nor sensed him, even when Kakashi had experienced the jealous, dangerous flow of chakra. It said something about how exhausted Iruka must have been because Kakashi’s killing intent had once unintentionally driven a man to suicide.

Kakashi was deliberately slow as he made his way to Iruka’s apartment. He wasn’t clumsy and uncertain, he wasn’t delirious from pain and drugs, he wasn’t full of energy. He was contemplative in a way that he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. He could admit to himself that he wanted Manaka to survive because her jounin partner needed her alive. Kakashi knew if he died as an ANBU off somewhere in the world, porcelain mask on his face, those in Konoha would piece together what his too-long absence meant. His name would go on the Memorial Stone alongside Obito and Rin; he might receive well wishes, flowers, regular visits from Sakura, Naruto, Guy, until they all died, too, probably also far outside the village.

But would anyone else mourn Kakashi? Did anyone miss him when he went out of the village?

He thought about Iruka-sensei angrily turning on him during the chuunin exams, Iruka reaching for his hand at the mission desk, about Iruka coming to assist an unconscious ANBU when he was only a chuunin and killing intent flooded the streets. 

Iruka-sensei would notice his absence, wouldn’t he?

Kakashi realized after a moment that he had neared Iruka’s apartment. He was already prepared for the familiar sight of a closed window and shut curtains; he was vaguely considering what he might eat tonight, if there was anything left in the refrigerator besides sake. He could always go back out to get street food, but he would need to change out his bloody ANBU uniform and take a thorough shower, and he wasn’t sure if he had any willpower left in him.

He glanced down as he made the final leap, catching a glimpse of Manaka’s blood on his flak jacket. It would stain if he wasn’t careful, and they really hated giving out additional –

It felt like a kunai caught him deep in the throat.

Kakashi stumbled, hitting the tree branch at a bad angle, and snatched a handful of leaves before finally stabilizing himself against the trunk itself. He couldn’t tell for a second what had happened – his throat was intact, there wasn’t any new blood on his shirt – and then it finally came together – what his eye and the Sharingan had seen while his mind was elsewhere.

Iruka’s window was open.

He was absolutely relieved no one was watching him, because, behind all his masks, his mouth dropped open and both his eyes widened, and he was suddenly crouching in the tree, desperately trying to stay out of sight.

He could actually see inside Iruka’s bedroom! There weren’t any lights on, but the moon was half-full and the stars bright enough to cast limited illumination inside the apartment. And Iruka was actually there, fully clothed, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands.

Kakashi’s mind was simultaneously blank and full. 

He couldn’t even follow his own instinctive process as he suddenly found himself back at his own apartment, very much not inside Iruka’s. His hands were already working hastily to disrobe himself. Kakashi knew he could not, certainly would not, show up to Iruka’s apartment soaked in blood. He gave his suddenly frightfully alert body the fastest wet sponge cleaning he ever had in his life before diving through his closet and shoving a clean set of ANBU clothing over his lean frame. He put the same shoes on, unwilling to spare seconds searching for another pair. He was rapidly back in the tree, and he was so intensely thankful to see that no one had gone through Iruka’s open window that he felt the tree branch he was holding break in half.

Kakashi tried to think coherently about what to do next, but he could tell he was failing miserably. Iruka’s window was open. Iruka was inviting an ANBU into his bedroom. Kakashi was ANBU. He could go into Iruka’s bedroom, and he could – they could –

He couldn’t wait any longer, not when Iruka could easily shut his window while Kakashi was dumbly staring at it. He swallowed once, unsuccessfully trying to calm his nerves, before he used every possible ounce of chakra to enter Iruka’s bedroom silent and unseen. But he made sure another ANBU would be able to sense him there. He needed to stake his claim now before someone else wandered by to see if Iruka-sensei was available. 

Iruka wasn’t available, not to them, not tonight.

Kakashi swiftly studied Iruka’s bedroom in the far dark corner of the teacher’s bedroom. The space was slightly larger than Kakashi’s miniscule room, and the bed looked more comfortable. Even in the sparse lighting, warm touches of personality and care showed throughout Iruka’s bedroom, including a few genin drawings. Some were clearly quite new, but there were a few that Kakashi vaguely suspected Naruto might have sketched. Iruka’s alarm clock was thrown on ground, resting on its side, the red numbers glowing, revealing the dark underneath of his bed. His bedsheets were disheveled from use… but not from sex, which Kakashi noted with more relief than he cared to admit. 

And Iruka-sensei… The man was his usual beautiful self. His sleeping clothes were loose over his deceptively muscled form. His expression was one of deep but twisted reflection, and he was giving his hands such a serious stare that Kakashi wondered if his fingers had betrayed him. But then Iruka smiled wistfully, obviously thinking about something fondly, and Kakashi reactively straightened. Who was he imagining with such sweetness?

Yet Iruka soon began to dissolve back into irritation, and Kakashi could no longer handle the pressure of his heart pounding violently about his chest. He moved his stance just slightly, resting his weight a tad bit more on his right leg, enough to signal his presence to Iruka even while standing in complete darkness.

Startling, Iruka stared for the first time where Kakashi had been lingering for a few minutes. “ANBU-san?” he asked, his voice concerned yet also carrying the faintest hint of interest.

Kakashi shook out of his chakra-concealed space, allowing his entire figure to be visible. He knew he must have been a sight: his red-and-white porcelain mask represented a sly cruel sort of death, and his ANBU attire – while clean – intimated pure violence. He could very plainly see Iruka considering him, and he was quite relieved to have the opportunity himself to study the teacher in return. In the relative dark of his bedroom, Iruka appeared curious but uncertain as he confronted Kakashi’s sudden, soundless arrival. His dark hair was tightly pulled back into his usual ponytail, and his hands were now gripping the cloth over his knees as if to ground himself. The long scar that bisected his face seemed shadowed, but his dark brown eyes were exceptionally mesmerizing. 

Kakashi felt the kunai in his throat again. 

“ANBU-san, do you –” Iruka inquired shortly before stopping himself. He looked in confusion at Kakashi, obviously expecting something. The teacher’s emotions rode rapidly into aggravation: Kakashi could see the man’s jaw muscles bunch as he gritted his teeth behind closed lips. 

Oh, he’s mad already?

Iruka closed his eyes, and Kakashi neared him, instinctively taking the advantage. He didn’t know how to start anything between them, not remotely. He was still incredibly thrown to be finally in Iruka’s bedroom, to be in front of Iruka and his bed. Molten-hot fear poured through his veins as he began to realize that he had never fantasized about the start of their interaction except for Iruka taking full, absolute control of the situation. 

As if Iruka was going to be rough with an ANBU…?

Much more predictably, when Iruka opened his eyes, the teacher flinched at the close proximity of an ANBU. However, he then did a truly admirable thing by standing slowly and reaching for Kakashi’s flak jacket, which he gently took in one hand. The teacher’s voice was sweet and curious as he asked, “What do you want from me?”

Kakashi wasn’t sure how to say: I have half-destroyed myself thinking about you. I want everything from you. I want anything you will give me. I will beg for scraps in an instant.

Iruka was staring up into Kakashi’s porcelain fox mask. His dark brown eyes were unbelievably gorgeous so close: they were chocolate, they were soil, they were kindness incarnate. Iruka’s facial expression wavered, and Kakashi could practically feel in the teacher’s pulse in the air. 

Much to Kakashi’s surprise, Iruka’s face quickly drew down into fierce irritation, and he threw a hand out towards his bed behind him. “Do you want me to take off my clothes and wait for you to wake up?” he demanded in exasperation. 

Far behind his mask, Kakashi felt impressed with Iruka-sensei. In a weird dissociative moment, he almost went to compliment the teacher, readying to say, “Don’t let that asshole ANBU intimidate you,” before he realized that he was that ANBU. He tried to work through his multiple identities in Iruka’s bedroom – at once an unknown masked ANBU while also very much Hatake Kakashi the Copy Ninja – But… those pretty black-brown eyes... 

They were so wonderful and full of anger.

Unexpectedly, Iruka’s grip tightened considerably on Kakashi’s flak jacket, and he was suddenly seething, inches from Kakashi’s porcelain mask. “Are you going to fuck me or –”

Kakashi embraced him with a speed and strength he normally reserved for the battlefield, but having Iruka ask if he was going to fuck him… The dizzy heat of an angry Iruka talking filthy flew wildly through him and brought everything out of him. His injured right hand jerked back his mask before he solidly pulled Iruka against his body. As Iruka went limp in the sudden hold and gave a loud gasp in his mask-covered ear, Kakashi impatiently leaned forward and kissed his neck for the first time. The warmth that had soared through him sharply escalated with his first contact with Iruka’s bare skin. He was suddenly relentless, kissing with deliberately closed lips, forever wanting that sweet simple touch between them. 

Iruka’s hand shook, trapped against his jacket. Iruka’s voice also trembled as he breathed “ANBU-san” in such a polite, wanting way that Kakashi couldn’t stop himself. Finally allowed to kiss Iruka, to keep him so close, to feel their bodies pressed so together, Kakashi nudged Iruka’s earlobe, precious and vulnerable, and held him tighter, willing their forms to coalesce.

When Kakashi finally spoke, he sounded like he had swallowed smoke, his tenor came out so dark and rushed. He could barely recognize his own voice, but it was certainly his, because he said, “Iruka-sensei, I have a request.”

Iruka wasted not a second, replying instantly with “Anything, ANBU-san” beside Kakashi’s masked ear. The aching wonder of Iruka’s willingness tore through him. Kakashi’s eyes immediately went wide, staring at the unscarred brown expanse of Iruka’s neck less than an inch away. As Iruka shifted in his hold, Kakashi instinctively followed Iruka’s hand, which had dropped to his lower back under his flak jacket. But he was suddenly caught up in the confused, terrifying availability of his fantasy. His lips hovered over Iruka’s skin, no longer able to press down and find luscious relief in the reality of their encounter.

When Iruka leaned his forehead down on Kakashi’s shoulder, it surprised Kakashi enough that he tried to reply, but he could only muster out a single sorry word –“I…” – before fear whipped through him like an unexpected fatal jutsu in the night and destroyed all of his strength in a single strike.

His strange hesitation must have alerted Iruka, because the other man’s head suddenly pulled off his shoulder. He turned slightly to look down at Kakashi’s bent form and his body moved restively in Kakashi’s overly tight hold. After a moment of mute contemplation, Iruka’s comforting tone returned, and he murmured, his breath fluttering Kakashi’s loose hair, “Whatever you want. It’s fine.”

Fuck, why are you so painfully good, Iruka-sensei?

He laughed softly against Iruka’s neck, but his nerves were frayed now. Kakashi wondered if what he was doing was wrong, putting the teacher in such an unknowingly uncomfortable situation. They knew each other outside of his ANBU mask; he had known Iruka-sensei for years. To ask Iruka to – well, really, to make him fuck him when Kakashi knew what was going on but Iruka didn’t…? But Kakashi knew Iruka wouldn’t be with him otherwise. Iruka was a good, kind person, but there was no way the man who had never opened his window for the good of Konoha would kiss Kakashi knowingly, let alone fuck him willingly. 

Iruka-sensei was generous but not that generous.

Should Kakashi just leave? 

… no, absolutely not. 

His breath wasn’t controlled anymore, and he had yet to kiss Iruka again. His thoughts twisted ugly and crazed about themselves. No, he couldn’t leave, not when this was most likely his only chance with Iruka. Furthermore, Kakashi was absolutely certain that he didn’t want to submit to just anyone, he wanted Iruka-sensei to be that person, he wanted to share this part of himself with Iruka and Iruka only. He could feel resolution building rapidly within himself, so Kakashi moved close to Iruka’s ear, restraining himself from a desperate kiss. Instead, he revealed all his fantasies at once, sincere and true, “I want you to fuck my mouth and then fuck me.”

Iruka went totally still. Kakashi might have been concerned, but with his leg pushed forcefully between Iruka’s thighs, he felt Iruka’s slight arousal become suddenly hard. The electrifying feel of Iruka’s interested erection and the thrill of Iruka’s impending acquiescence sent him back to kissing Iruka’s neck with a silent fever, waiting for the words to be spoken aloud.

Instead, Iruka was stammering in his ear, “Are you – why would you –” As the other man tried to catch up with his request, Kakashi decided he would like to memorize every inch of Iruka’s body, flexing open his Sharingan and taking in everything he could to save it all for the future. With his ANBU mask affixed to his head but pushed far upwards, he could see the teacher in intimate, fascinating proximity. 

As Iruka fumbled onwards, “You can, you know, you can have anything,” Kakashi felt himself internally growing increasingly pleased with where the night was heading.

I have you, that’s all I want.

Kakashi let himself go, just a little more, and he ran his tongue across Iruka’s neck. The teacher tasted fearfully good, his salt-tinged sweaty skin perfect for a wanting, dehydrated man. Kakashi couldn’t restrain himself from taking a bite at Iruka’s earlobe, relishing the feel of a soft part of Iruka in his mouth, before he let go and breathed huskily against Iruka’s neck, “You taste good, Iruka-sensei. I want your cock down my throat.”

Iruka seemed to breathe out everything in his lungs. His arousal twitched, pressed against Kakashi’s leg: he must have not expected his ANBU visitor to be so lewd or submissive. Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh again, relieved to be finding a sweet spot between them, where he could tease the teacher and get him riled up. Feeling relaxed and realizing increasingly that he was going to get what he wanted, Kakashi began to kiss Iruka’s neck open-mouthed, occasionally licking his skin and biting just barely him when and where he could. 

“But I’m not allowed to see your face,” Iruka worried aloud, his voice gone noticeably breathy and weak since Kakashi had started really and truly kissing his neck.

His own answer was easy enough: “You won’t see my full face. You only need my mouth.”

If he had delighted in Iruka’s earlier reaction, Kakashi was overjoyed when Iruka slumped against him, groaning very quietly. He started to kiss his neck again, but Iruka soon pulled away from him. Kakashi stilled, struggling to interpret the other man’s action. A slow glance at Iruka’s face revealed that the teacher was embroiled in concern and doubt – but in what? in himself? in the whole situation? in Kakashi… the ANBU? He could visibly see that Iruka was breathing quickly, too quickly, bordering on hyperventilating. His dark brown eyes were seeking out answers at their feet, and Kakashi felt a sudden spike of anxiety run along his spine and lodge forcefully in his heart. 

He spoke softly, hoping he sounded reassuring, “I know you won’t hurt me, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka whipped his head to look at Kakashi in an entirely unexpected motion. Kakashi’s unease about Iruka’s worry instantly transformed into fear for himself: his porcelain mask was far too high up on his exposed face. The long scar line of his lost eye and Obito’s Sharingan was certainly showing; worse, he had never in his life seen anyone in Konoha with such a mark, so the scar would clearly identify him. His injured hand gave a tiny flicker of pained protest as he flung it off of Iruka’s shoulder and forced his ANBU mask heavily down his face. Willing himself not to be panicked at the sudden fear of being found out as Hatake Kakashi, he looked rapidly over Iruka’s expression through the eyeholes in his mask. 

The action seemed to have unsettled Iruka, because his dark brown eyes looked over the porcelain mask with apprehension. Kakashi tried not to wilt in disappointment with himself. He instead reached out and touched the other man’s chin, attempting to be comforting and resisting the impulse to pull the teacher back into a full body embrace. 

Iruka surprised him again: his hand rose from his side and clamped down on Kakashi’s now accessible wrist. He wasn’t sure what the other man was doing at first, but then he realized, the spike in his heart twisting sharply, that Iruka was trying to gauge if his pulse was excited.

Kakashi knew his heart was beating madly. A near panic suffocated him: the slightest mistake could expose his identity. If Iruka discovered that the ANBU was actually Kakashi, Iruka-sensei would be understandably insulted and angry. Their friendship would dissolve in an instant. Kakashi would have to slink about Konoha for the rest of his life until he was mercifully murdered by enemy nin, saved from seeing Iruka’s infuriated face around the village. 

But then, Iruka said quietly, “Let me see you.” 

Kakashi pulled himself back to the present and studied Iruka in this very moment, finding him flushed with embarrassment and… arousal. Moving quickly, Kakashi adjusted his ANBU porcelain mask, willingly revealing his high-necked shirt tight against his throat and the very lower portion of his face, the part he never showed anyone. 

Earlier panic morphed into a drowning sense of insecurity. Struggling to tamp down his sudden need for validation, he offered Iruka an exaggerated smile and asked him casually, “See anything you’d like to fuck?”

With the eyeholes of the ANBU mask in his hair, Kakashi couldn’t see, of course, but he thought it wouldn’t cause him too much trouble. He certainly could bring down his mask before Iruka could do anything too terrible to him. In any case, Kakashi knew he could discern Iruka’s mood in any number of ways besides visually appraising him. 

But he was admittedly surprised when Iruka roughly shoved him, evidently in response to his crude question.

Ah, he’d been a bit too casual.

Kakashi couldn’t help but laugh slightly: Iruka remained remarkably unpredictable. He’d pushed a high-ranking ANBU away for being vulgar! Still, Iruka stayed true to himself by not submitting to anything that he didn’t want. He felt Iruka shift further away from him, detangling himself, and Kakashi reached out instantly, grabbing Iruka by the bicep. The words tumbled out of his mouth, “Iruka-sensei, I –” before he was solidly interrupted.

“Get your on knees.” 

Iruka’s voice blew through Kakashi as a biting arctic wind, chilling every inch of his skin with delicate goosebumps. The glorious arousal that followed could have knocked Kakashi completely over if he wasn’t already instantaneously falling to his knees. This new dominant version of Iruka was bizarrely familiar – his fantasy come alive – but Kakashi hadn’t perfectly captured the reality of his own deliriously obedient response to the other man. He could hear Iruka moving minutely as his hands neared Kakashi’s face, reaching for the waistband of his pants. 

But then Iruka-sensei paused too long. He was still not sure of himself.

Kakashi murmured softly, “Let me,” as he brought his hands to cover Iruka’s. He could feel the other man’s trembling fingers, and he tried to exert calm confidence as he pulled Iruka’s sleeping pants down his thighs, letting them hang around his ankles. Straining his senses to assess Iruka’s nebulous state of mind, Kakashi could hear Iruka’s breathing go from erratic to almost non-existent when his body was exposed to the night air. He wasn’t sure how to best reassure the other man, but he could smell Iruka intimately, and his mouth watered.

As Kakashi instinctively towards his prize, he realized that Iruka had moved his hands sharply away from his face. Kakashi closed his eyes and suggested, his voice husky, “You can grab my head, Iruka-sensei.” He tilted his head upward so the teacher could see his pleased smile and gave him an off-shouldered shrug. “In fact, I want you to,” he assured him.

But poor Iruka-sensei was still nervous. Kakashi was too close to his dreams to care. His smile became a grin: he was going to be insistent, wouldn’t he? He grabbed Iruka’s hands without seeing them and threaded the man’s fingers in his hair, pushing his palms to hold the ANBU mask as a lifeline. It was almost certainly the first time that Iruka-sensei had touched an ANBU mask, which, honestly, made the whole thing much more wonderfully hot, because Kakashi wanted to be the first, only, and last ANBU Iruka ever had this way. 

He wanted to linger in Iruka’s memory forever.

Kakashi took Iruka’s cock deeply in his mouth without thinking or looking. 

It was perfect. Everything he’d imagined and more. A too-hot hardness filling his mouth completely, pressing down his tongue, pushing the back of his throat. And it was Umino Iruka’s. Above him, Iruka’s gasp transformed wildly into a moan, and the teacher’s hands clutched violently at Kakashi’s hair, and Kakashi’s cock seemed to be desperate to punch out of Kakashi’s pants, he was so suddenly and shockingly erect. 

Kakashi wasn’t about to deny himself: he finally had Iruka in his mouth, and, by all that was good in the world, he was going to do everything he could to thoroughly enjoy Iruka’s cock. Without stopping to breathe, he urgently bobbed up and down, relishing the feeling of his mouth being filled with Iruka’s delicious arousal. He loved Iruka’s hard length against his tongue. He knew he should be ashamed at how he lapped, almost dog-like, at him, but the man was truly beyond magnificent. 

Iruka was a dream. Iruka was his dream.

He could tell that Iruka was enjoying it, too, which made everything so much more delightful and sinful and good. The teacher’s hands were unstable in his hair, unable to stay still. Kakashi felt Iruka bow towards him and heard him give a harsh intake of air – and – and –

Kakashi knew he was too excited, but he couldn’t help himself.

He sat up from his knees and took every last inch of Iruka in his mouth. His throat protested just slightly at the hard intrusion, but the rest of his body desperately cheered at the absolutely glorious sensation of being throat-fucked.

Iruka’s hot breath spread over him. His fingers were frantic, pulling at Kakashi’s hair in fits, before he finally dug his nails into Kakashi’s scalp, holding onto him as if he was about to die. The minuscule bursts of pain combined with the near-distressed urgency of Iruka’s state of arousal flashed like lightning bolts through Kakashi, shocking his very system. He realized he was moaning with Iruka’s cock in his mouth the very same moment that he noticed his body tremble in delight at Iruka’s tender, tight grip on his hair. 

Iruka must have been concerned at Kakashi’s reaction, because the teacher suddenly tried to pull Kakashi off of him… but Kakashi wasn’t very interested in ending anything. He allowed Iruka the moment of control – which gave him a second to catch his breath – before deepthroating him again. 

Wondrously, Iruka responded just the same: moaning and pulling his hair.

Hnnn. Yes. Yes. Yes.

The very touch of Kakashi’s ANBU pants against his aching erection had become impossible to resist. He knew he was moving restlessly on his knees, glorying in the contact of the cloth against his bare cock. All of Iruka’s beautiful moans and Iruka fisting his hair – they were just too unbearably and frightfully good to endure – 

Then Iruka pulled at his hair in the distinct style of a shinobi: intentional, combative. 

Kakashi went with the motion, unwilling to cause conflict by resisting. He felt a sharp sadness overtake him with the absence of Iruka’s cock in his mouth and almost pouted, but then Iruka’s right hand had grabbed him under the chin and was tilting his whole face upward. Kakashi was breathing heavily, perhaps too heavily, and he mildly wondered if he had been suffocating himself on Iruka’s cock.

It would be a good way to die, Kakashi thought as he licked his lips.

“Do not hurt yourself doing that.” 

Iruka’s order came across scolding – but not in the way that Kakashi had been dreaming about. Instead, Iruka-sensei seemed distinctly disapproving, even offended. Kakashi’s arousal didn’t lessen, though: he had resolutely avoided touching his own erection through his worship of Iruka’s cock, and even with Iruka’s condemning judgment, Kakashi felt his body trembling with greedy want. He restrained himself the best he could – by tapping out mindless ANBU code on his thigh. Kakashi tried to absorb Iruka’s comment, but his brain felt like it was short-firing. He just wanted Iruka’s cock. He just wanted to jerk off. He just –

Both of Iruka’s hands slid upwards and cupped the bare portion of Kakashi’s face. 

His single word drifted through Kakashi, a serene sweet request: “Please.”

Kakashi immediately gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes even tighter shut. He didn’t want Iruka to be begging; he must be doing something wrong. He should be behaving himself better, but he was far too excited and unable to control himself. When had he become an unruly mess? He was disappointing Iruka, and –

Iruka’s fingers suddenly brushed over Kakashi’s bruised lips. The teacher’s subsequent compliment was entirely unexpected: “You’re too good at that.” Kakashi’s eyes flashed open, even though he was unable to see anything in the dark of his mask. He straightened, and his hands went still on his thighs, ceasing his desperate pleas of W-A-N-T-Y-O-U-N-E-E-D-Y-O-U in ANBU code. Even more bewildering, Iruka only continued, his voice barely a whisper, “If you want me to do other things with you, you can’t…”

Kakashi’s brain jumped three steps ahead: he saw his face shoved into Iruka’s pillow, could feel Iruka’s hands gripping his hips, and could hear the delicious sounds of their fucking. The smile that came to his face was completely sincere, and he was quickly redirecting Iruka’s hands to his hair and mask. Kakashi promised fiercely, “I’ll be better,” as he changed tactics and began to remove his armored gloves. 

His hands felt relieved when finally exposed in the cold air of Iruka’s bedroom. Kakashi knew his Flying Swallow injury would probably be a bit of a sight, but he couldn’t stop himself to care. Instead he licked a huge swath of his palm and smiled widely, knowing that dear Iruka-sensei would be both disturbed by his injury and distracted by the obscene action of his tongue. He wanted to hold Iruka’s cock, anyway; he didn’t only want to deep-throat him. He could feel Iruka startle minutely once he slipped his hand down Iruka’s length, and Kakashi regretted that he hadn’t started their encounter with bare-skin groping of his favorite teacher. Stroking Iruka’s wet hard cock was pure fucking delight; so were the teacher’s soft intakes of breath and even quieter moans.

So, Kakashi indulged himself again: he gave Iruka’s cock a slight lick while still holding him.

A few things happened simultaneously, all of which Kakashi quickly memorized so he could reference them for the rest of his life, however short it might be. Iruka moaned in a wild, indecent way, and he jerked hard on Kakashi’s hair in new obscene instinct. In direct response, sparks of fiery pleasure cascaded down Kakashi’s scalp, neck, chest, and stomach, the warmth coiling tightly in his groin. 

Kakashi heard himself whine in pleasure.

Before he could be embarrassed, Iruka’s insanely husky voice demanded, “Do that again,” and Kakashi knew at once that he had successfully seduced the teacher.

He leaned forward and delicately licked the underneath of Iruka’s hard cock. While the teacher made less sound the second time, Iruka still pulled a tight fistful of Kakashi’s hair back at the too-pleasant contact. Giving into submission, Kakashi again went with the motion, enjoying the force of his overly aroused sensei. He heard himself moan, and it was a dark, rich sound that filled Iruka’s bedroom.

Iruka’s free hand was suddenly on his throat.

Kakashi remained still in Iruka’s hold. He could feel Iruka’s fingers spread over his fragile skin. Iruka insistently drew down of his turtleneck, exposing more of him to view and touch. Kakashi swallowed out of the very faintest sense of nervousness – and arousal, he realized slowly in surprise. He knew that he wanted to be vulnerable with Iruka-sensei, but he hadn’t imagined it meant this sort of thing, too, literally allowing his throat available to touch, not fearing that Iruka might cut him from ear to ear. Kakashi felt hot and disoriented. He could feel a flush on his cheeks and his breathing had become fast and unsteady. He licked at his bruised bottom lip, dazed at how wildly good it felt to have Iruka gripping his hair with one obstinate hand and gently touching his throat with the other. 

Then Iruka was stepping closer to him. The teacher was breathing, rough and rapid. He had something in mind – and Kakashi imagined he knew what it was. He thought about grabbing his poor neglected cock, but no – he would wait –

And then he could sense, smell, Iruka again, up close, so close, and then Iruka was pushing his cock into Kakashi’s mouth at the slowest, most satisfying pace imaginable. 

Kakashi accepted it willingly, instantly.

Iruka’s grip on his hair kept strong and tight. Kakashi felt his head drawn up from the hold, and the sparkling pain of his scalp kept his brain alert and dancing. His cock had begun to become violent in its disapproval of Kakashi’s lack of attention, but Iruka was persistent now, moving his cock forward, and Kakashi’s concentration was completely absorbed by the glorious hot hardness filling every inch of his mouth. As much as Kakashi was excruciatingly enjoying himself, he could tell that Iruka-sensei was obviously thrilled, too, because all his good, nervous, pure nature had vanished. Instead, Iruka’s throaty gasp sounded of dark, stolen pleasure.

Once again, Kakashi’s laugh resonated in a hum around Iruka’s cock, but this time the teacher had no interest in shoving Kakashi away.

In stark contrast, Iruka pushed his cock further into Kakashi’s mouth. 

Kakashi startled, disturbed not so much by Iruka’s insistent motion but by his body’s crazed reaction to the forceful action. He could handle Iruka’s cock, of course, even if his lungs were demanding more air and his jaw had begun to protest. But Kakashi wasn’t sure how much his own cock could tolerate not being touched: he had the strange distant fear that he might cum from the sheer fucking glory of being throat-fucked by Iruka-sensei.

And then Iruka pushed in all the way. Kakashi’s lips were wrapped at the very base of Iruka’s cock, and his nose was so pressed into Iruka’s pelvis, he nosed the other man’s pubic hair. He could tell he was feeling light-headed from asphyxiation, not that he would have alerted Iruka, the whole situation was too magnificent to disrupt in any way. Instead, as he sat on his knees with a thick cock down his throat, Kakashi faintly wondered if Iruka thought he was a repulsive pervert for wanting this submissive sort of sex. He was sick... Iruka must know that, think that. Agreeing to this, all this… Iruka was just doing his duty to… Konoha. Iruka didn’t… want…

Then dark loving words, spoken in a whisper to him: “You are perfect.”

Kakashi’s body shook without his control. He moaned, too, causing him to back away from Iruka’s cock as he struggled to breathe. He realized that he hadn’t been breathing at all as Iruka released his hair, alarmed by Kakashi’s sudden movement and sound. Falling back on martial instinct as his brain tried to swallow back oxygen, Kakashi grabbed Iruka’s suddenly free hand and pulled him downwards, all without looking at him, sensing him instinctively in the air. He swept him into a hard embrace and went straight for Iruka’s ear, unstably breathing out, his voice hoarse and wanting, “You should fuck me now.”

As Kakashi abruptly stood, he ignored the vicious way the room spun. He looked towards Iruka’s bed before he realized that the teacher had begun moving towards the open window. As Kakashi smoothly removed his clothing with the fast, mechanical ease of an ANBU who had disrobed too many times to count, he watched as Iruka kicked off his own pants while stumbling forward. He smiled a little at Iruka’s awkward actions after Kakashi’s deepthroating; he simultaneously disregarded his body’s angry demand that he sit down and breathe deeply for twenty minutes instead of readying to fuck.

Iruka was mindlessly chattering about what he was doing, “Oh, I forgot to close the window!” as Kakashi was easing down onto his bed, enjoying the firmness of the mattress under his knees. He had brought lubricant with him with the full knowledge that he would be here soon enough: he rarely used it back at home, but he had fooled around with insertion a few times. Kakashi wasn’t terribly fond of practicing alone, and, even in Iruka’s bed, he found himself almost instantaneously bored when he pushed a single finger inside himself. The act was easily completed and not nearly as thrilling as it should be – or would be with Iruka-sensei. But Kakashi knew that he was supposed to do something like this before getting fucked, and he got about doing it with the clear, clean efficiency of any ANBU in combat. Get it done quick. 

“I’m so sorry about that, I…” Iruka’s words died in his throat. Kakashi knew the teacher must have finally seen him on his bed. Kakashi tried not to be thoroughly embarrassed: he had rarely been entirely nude with anyone. Even with the jounin from a few months ago, he kept his shirt on, not unlike how Iruka was now. The extra piece of clothing acted like some sort of ethereal armor, protecting them from each other, creating yet another layer of protection from real intimacy. Even with his ANBU mask, Kakashi felt suddenly intensely uncomfortable, like he would rather not be in Iruka’s bedroom and not on Iruka’s bed. The abrupt turn from blinding want confused him immensely. His cock was still flushed and erect, but he could tell that he felt terribly unsure of this next step, an infinitely different sentiment than his confidence in deepthroating. 

Was being fucked more intimate? Or – less intimate?

Iruka’s hand touched his hip-bone. Kakashi decided enough was enough. He drew his injured hand back to the bed and waited, not knowing what to say. Should he say anything? Fucking had always been like this, was like this: a shy decision to be submissive, a rough stance of dominance. Giving away his control to Iruka would be unsettling, of course, and it made sense that a significant part of him wanted to deny Iruka-sensei any power over him. But Kakashi wanted it. He wanted someone else in control. He wanted Iruka in control.

When Iruka finally got onto the bed and began to push into him, Kakashi knew within seconds that he had not prepared himself correctly. However, the slow pace that Iruka maintained was not putting a strain on his body, even though the more fragile parts of his body were demanding that he shove Iruka backward off the bed and make a quick escape out the now-closed window. Kakashi squared his shoulders: this was fucking, he needed toughen up.

In any case, Iruka brushed against that one nice spot inside Kakashi, and sudden jolts of pleasure crisscrossed Kakashi’s body, interrupting his pained internal monologue. He moaned instinctively, which startled Iruka, who accidentally pulled out completely and then pushed back in too quickly, evidently surprised to have lost his rhythm. The force of Iruka’s second thrust caused Kakashi’s moan to become choked. He spat out, “Fuck,” into the darkness. He had to admit the mixture of pain with pleasure was not entirely pleasant, but it was visceral and present and Iruka was finally fucking him, it was what he’d wanted so long…

Then Iruka’s hands were on his hips in an unusual way. It took more than a moment for Kakashi to realize that Iruka-sensei was being strangely insistent: the teacher was trying to turn him over. He mentally shrugged, admitting he wouldn’t mind being on his back. Plus, it would give Iruka a good moment to leer at who he was fucking, which Kakashi had done on occasion with other jounin that he had taken home from bars. As he flipped on his back, settling into the mattress, Kakashi purposefully spread his legs wide, and he was pleased his ANBU mask was back down so he could see Iruka give Kakashi’s erection a prolonged stare.

But Iruka didn’t resume fucking him, much to Kakashi’s consternation. Instead, the teacher straddled his thighs in such a way that Kakashi decided to close his legs, although he was not able to track what the other man was thinking. Then, much to his surprise, Iruka pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, far off the bed, revealing his tanned chest and abdomen, full of thicker muscles than Kakashi’s, which were fine and lean and scarred all over. As Iruka leaned forward, Kakashi truly had no idea what he was planning, although he had to harshly remind himself that he wanted Iruka-sensei in control, not himself. 

The new position allowed Kakashi’s cock to come into contact with Iruka’s, and the sensation was unreal, dragging out some feral part of Kakashi. He hissed behind his mask, clawing at the bedsheets, trying to restrain his instant instinct to grab Iruka and thrust their bodies together. Iruka also clearly liked the feeling of their hard cocks pressed against one another, because he buried his face in Kakashi’s neck, breathing roughly. Iruka’s hands went into Kakashi’s hair, fitting themselves perfectly as he’d done when throat-fucking Kakashi. Except this time there was no cruel insistence, no mindless strength, but a sort of soft familiarity and kindness. 

Kakashi’s hands went to where he had dreamed about for months: Iruka’s back.

The scar was still there. Of course it was. 

Kakashi’s fingers nimbly touched the deep mark in Iruka’s skin. He could feel so much more with their bodies intertwined like this, more than he had ever imagined with Iruka-sensei. It was surreal in its saccharine innocence; he felt very little like a shinobi of any kind, let alone one that had killed a dozen men earlier in the day. Instead, his brain was slowly, contemplatively, studying little segments of the new sensation of being so close and intimate with Iruka. His sweat-slick chest pressed against Iruka’s, their heart-beats tumbling in tandem. Iruka’s fingers running softly along Kakashi’s scalp. Iruka’s breath tickling his throat. 

Had Iruka held Mizuki like this? So soft and helpless and sweet? 

Kakashi thought of the disgraced chuunin. They both had silver hair. Did Iruka have a thing for men with silver hair? Was Iruka attracted to unstable, strange-behaving shinobi? Did Iruka expect Kakashi to betray him? Was this not a betrayal – that Kakashi knew Iruka, but Iruka believed him to be some strange ANBU he’d never met?

He registered that Iruka had asked a question several moments after he first spoke it. 

“… Can I kiss you?”

Kakashi’s hands stilled on Iruka’s back. He suddenly realized in a serrated-edged epiphany that he had never thought of kissing Iruka-sensei when they were both naked. His heart beat double-time for a second: he promptly wanted to kiss Iruka more than he had ever in his life while at the exact same moment he recognized his ANBU mask could be easily displaced and his identity revealed while kissing. At this point, Iruka finding out that the ANBU who he had just throat-fucked and now actually fucked – that that ANBU was Kakashi, the man who bothered the living daylights out of him – Kakashi quickly imagined Iruka smashing the lamp on the night-stand against Kakashi’s head and restrained a wince from running across his face.

But then Iruka’s lips found the soft underside of Kakashi’s chin, and he kissed there with such tenderness that Kakashi’s eyes fluttered shut. “Please?” The single hopeful word was Iruka’s only near-inaudible request. His breath was soft and kind on Kakashi’s throat. His fingers were tracing little gentle circles on Kakashi’s scalp through all his wild silver hair.

Iruka’s voice controlled him, there was no denying it. Kakashi slowly pushed back his ANBU mask and revealed his mouth again. Anguished tension wracked his muscles: he was playing with fire, and he knew he was being selfish and unsafe. But kissing Iruka while naked sounded like a dream both virtuous and disastrously good.

He didn’t move, but Iruka did. He kissed tentatively, and Kakashi hesitated to respond, staying still. Kakashi silently found it impressive that Iruka didn’t explode with frustration at the ANBU mask disrupting the easy motion of kissing. Although he could have surrendered to Kakashi’s soundless rejection of softness between them, Iruka was persistent. He kissed down on Kakashi with urgency and question and concern. Iruka had tilted his head to better fit against Kakashi’s, and his lips were both gentle and determined. 

It would have taken a much stronger man than Kakashi to refuse such affectionate attention. He responded uncertainly, but he found that Iruka was enthused by any response at all. The teacher – nude, glorious, cock hard as steel shoved against Kakashi’s thigh – grabbed the sides of Kakashi’s head and pressed a demanding kiss down on him. Kakashi felt his breath get stolen away, and he realized with strange slowness that he had been acutely wrought with excessive tension. As his body relaxed into Iruka’s kisses, he pulled down the other man tight against him, wanting again to bring them together to the point of singularity.

When Iruka pulled away for a second, Kakashi unthinkingly followed him, wanting to continue their kissing. Had he been more concerned with things, he might have blushed as Iruka laughed breathily at his newfound interest in the sport. But instead he was suddenly thrilled by their rapid evolution in kissing: he licked at Iruka’s lips on instinct and then got to lick inside Iruka’s mouth. Their tongues danced together, and Kakashi felt dizzy and overjoyed with getting to be with Iruka in this way. He couldn’t see Iruka at all, but he could feel him all over, from their crossed ankles to their chests pressed together to his hands on Iruka’s back to Iruka’s fingers in his hair.

It was impossibly good… and it was just kissing!

My fantasies are absolutely terrible. This is perfection.

But, unexpectedly, Iruka moved entirely away from him. Kakashi could tell the difference between Iruka trying to take a second to breathe and Iruka being finished with kissing. His immediate instinct was to protest – which came out as a pathetic, desperate whine of disappointment. 

Kakashi went still and thought about killing himself.

He knew endless ways to kill himself. Even naked, under Iruka, he was sure he could complete more than a dozen jutsus that would only decimate his living self, leaving Iruka intact. 

Could he be more pitiful? Sneaking into Iruka’s life like this? And now giving up the very last shred of his dignity for a kiss?

Yet Iruka saved him again: he pressed a small kiss on the corner of Kakashi’s mouth and whispered against his cheek, “I like kissing you, too.” Kakashi’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t see the other man, but he could hear with profound clarity the warmth and affection flowing from Iruka-sensei as he spoke. His hands were drifting down Kakashi’s scarred chest, not in a disgusted way and not in hero-worship, either. Just taking in his old wounds, all the things that Kakashi had survived. Iruka’s next remarks were thoughtful, kind: “I want to see you when I fuck you.” He paused before he opened his palm, spreading his fingers wide below Kakashi’s navel, not so distant from Kakashi’s straining erection. 

Unimaginably generous and good, Iruka concluded softly, “I want to see all this.”

Then Iruka moved downwards more, bringing his legs back underneath Kakashi’s, in the fashion of a man about to fuck his partner. Fucking was more familiar than sweet kissing, but now Kakashi wanted it a little less, which threw him considerably. He was still thinking very significantly about kissing Iruka: his face was flushed from the sweet joy of the contact, and his breath came out unevenly, wanting to kiss him again but not knowing how to ask for it. 

He couldn’t see Iruka, either, which was frustrating. He was having a hard time predicting the other man’s movements, which made sense, he had never been with him in this way, but he had thought he could guess? And he was finding out very rapidly how wrong he was about that.

As if to prove his point, Kakashi threw his head back in desire-soaked shock as Iruka suddenly wrapped his hand around Kakashi’s relatively untouched cock. The sensation of Iruka-sensei being both firm and tender with him – Kakashi bit down on his already abused lower lip and could only partially repress a strangled sound of pleasure from tearing out of his throat.

Iruka moved even quicker and more unpredictably, and suddenly Kakashi’s brain went into a tumultuous series of vivid rainbow explosions, and he sharply realized Iruka’s mouth was on his cock. Kakashi’s hands moved of their own accord, grabbing onto Iruka’s shoulders in a mixture of panic and adoration. Before he could stop himself, he said quickly, “You don’t have to do that,” but Iruka was resolute and clearly in love with Kakashi’s cock, much to Kakashi’s delirious confusion. Iruka’s style of blowjob was nothing like Kakashi had ever experienced before: he was not focused on downing Kakashi’s entire cock, quick and hard, but instead Iruka relished the very feel of Kakashi in his mouth, like he was slowly admiring its thick beauty with loving tongue and soft lips.

After a while, Iruka moved away from Kakashi’s cock, remarking casually, “You taste good, too.” Kakashi again thought he might die – not because he was going to kill himself laying in Iruka’s bed, but because he had in no way prepared for any of what was now happening between them. He had gotten Stage One in the correct order, with deepthroating and throatfucking being huge components of his fantasy, but now Stage Two was in disarray… but it was the good sort of chaos that made slow battles intriguing and specific people endlessly observable.

When Iruka repositioned himself in such a way that Kakashi was now certain that the teacher meant to start fucking him again, Kakashi wrapped his legs around Iruka and helped him push inside. He could have sworn he heard Iruka give a soft bit of laughter, but that all was gone out of his head as he suddenly realized with a singing crescendo that –

Being fucked feels incredibly good! 

… Then what the fuck were we doing a few minutes ago?

Iruka moved slowly into him, his hands on Kakashi’s sharp hipbones. It was like a building melody of pleasure, one that was overwhelming Kakashi in its slow evolution, in its beautiful impossible care. Somehow, he was more restless than he had been before. He kept shifting his shoulders, his back, his hips, even his legs and feet wrapped Iruka’s waist. His hands moved like wild birds far out of his control, eagerly feeling Iruka’s pulse in his wrists, caressing his own thrilled cock, digging his nails into Iruka’s bedsheets. 

Iruka was determined and good, so good. Even though Iruka had struck near or slightly at that perfect spot in Kakashi more than a few times, Iruka’s cock finally moved against it at just right the speed and pressure, and Kakashi’s vision, already pitch-black inside the askew mask, went a discombobulated swarm of red, white, black. He moaned, but the sound caught in his chest. His fingers went to his own hair, pressing through to touch his scalp, unable to believe this, any of this, was actually happening to him – between them – between him and Umino Iruka…!

Then Iruka’s hand was on his shoulder. Kakashi totally startled at the suddenly different contact and yet was even further confused when Iruka began pulling up on his shoulder. He eventually went with Iruka’s direction, sitting upwards. He could feel the teacher shifting underneath him, and he adjusted with him so Iruka was partially sitting and Kakashi was both in and on his lap. The arrangement was not unlike a close embrace, which made Kakashi all the dizzier, because he had not really thought about this sort of intimate position as a possible option for sex.

Iruka’s face was against Kakashi’s neck. The teacher was obviously close to climax, and Kakashi wondered if they had changed position to delay Iruka’s orgasm. Not that he was complaining!

“Let me kiss you again,” were the words whispered into the side of Kakashi’s throat.

It was an unusual thing to ask, because Kakashi hadn’t pulled his ANBU mask down since their kissing a few minutes ago and Iruka currently, clearly, had access to his mouth now. Was Iruka-sensei just being polite? All of Kakashi’s body was his – not just for the taking, but for whatever he wanted. Or was he asking because it was such a difficult thing to do, to kiss Kakashi, because the cumbersome ANBU mask was in between them?

Well, Iruka-sensei had taken off his shirt. It seemed stupid to have yet another barrier between them… Kakashi’s earlier fears of being identified vanished when he took Iruka’s needs into consideration, and he suddenly wanted nothing to do with his ANBU mask. 

Either Iruka would close his eyes, or he would find out his ANBU was Hatake Kakashi.

Kakashi removed his mask, adjusting his eyes to Iruka’s bedroom. The Sharingan swept over Iruka, finding him using no chakra, but relishing every fucking detail of the glorious, gorgeous other man – who had indeed shut his eyes straightaway. 

Suddenly liberated from his constraints, Kakashi grabbed Iruka’s face with both hands, and he crashed down on him, giving him the passionate kiss that he had wanted earlier. He tried to put everything about himself in the kiss: who he had been, who he was, who he wanted to be. He felt faint when his bare nose pressed into Iruka’s cheek. He felt like a damn cat as he did it, but he rubbed his unscarred cheek against Iruka’s and shrugged off any concerns about purring.

Finally able to see Iruka-sensei, Kakashi wondered if he could ever sleep with anyone else again.

Iruka’s eyes were tightly shut, but his mouth was open as he worked to catch his breath. His tongue was wet and visible. His tan-skinned face was flushed a dark red from sex; his scar stood out and Kakashi suddenly thought about licking it. While his ponytail had endured amazingly well, a significant number of little strands of his hair had escaped, some sweatily sticking to his forehead and cheeks. His sweat-covered shoulders were heaving as he breathed erratically, and the thick muscles of his arms bulged from tightly holding onto Kakashi’s waist.

Oh, I really do want you, Iruka-sensei…

Kakashi took over. It was all fine and good to fantasize about Iruka when it wasn’t yet reality or could never become reality, but Kakashi was with Iruka now, right now, and he was going to get everything he always wanted and more. He also wanted to give Iruka something, like an amazing haunt-you-forever sort of memory, and he knew he only brought so much to the table when it came to penetrative sex. One asset was his chakra-infused strength, and that power he used now with sinister relish, inspired by his renewed devotion to Iruka and his desire to get fucked and to fuck himself on Iruka’s cock. 

He was obsessively kissing Iruka the whole time; the teacher had begun to moan ceaselessly, loudly, wondrously. After a few intense thrusts, Iruka abandoned Kakashi’s hip and gripped Kakashi’s cock, which he began stroking with vigor and passion. The sensation made Kakashi all the more teetering on the edge of his orgasm, and he laughed, bare-faced, against Iruka and rolled his hips, taking Iruka’s cock deeper within him. Somewhere very, very distant, Kakashi recognized that he was being too rough on his body – and that there was the thin, keen scent of blood –

Iruka’s hand tightened around Kakashi’s cock, and Kakashi groaned against his mouth, forcing his eye and Sharingan stay open to witness the wonder of Iruka fucking him, him fucking Iruka.

The sensation escalated his already forceful activity, and although the slight hint of blood in the air became suddenly much more prominent, Kakashi’s head swam like he was in the best battle of his very long life, full of lust and joy and pure wild passion. Iruka’s endless moans made him much more disoriented that he could have ever imagined. Iruka’s hand moving up and down on his cock produced unpredicted, astonishing pleasure, and he would have screamed to the very moon that he loved Iruka’s cock thrusting up deep inside him if –

If Iruka hadn’t suddenly kissed him hard on the mouth, biting down on Kakashi’s lower lip, at the very same moment that Iruka also jerked back roughly on his hair.

Kakashi hadn’t sensed how close he was, so when his orgasm roared over him, he could only choke out a moan, gasping against Iruka’s parted lips. As he came, he could feel Iruka still fucking him, and it was the sort of delicious, obscene thing that made Icha Icha a pale, pitiful version of fantasy or reality. Suddenly, Iruka dragged his hand from Kakashi’s hair and clenched Kakashi’s shoulder so hard there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t have Iruka-fingertip-bruises for days.

And, all through his own soaring orgasm, dear perfect Iruka-sensei kept his eyes closed.

“You’re too fucking beautiful,” Kakashi purred into Iruka’s ear, pressing his unscarred cheek against Iruka’s face, memorizing every little bit of Iruka’s orgasm with the Sharingan and whatever part of his brain wasn’t being blown into fucking pieces.

As they both eased down from their separate climaxes, Kakashi pulled away from Iruka, and he watched the other man slump back and then simply lay down in the bed. Still with his eyes closed, ever the good man, Iruka reached out, clearly looking for Kakashi’s hand… the ANBU’s hand. And he was soon tracing over Kakashi’s new injury, the stitched chakra-healed Swallow Blade wound, in an affectionate, concerned way that had Kakashi’s heart melting rather than pounding in protest.

It took nearly two minutes for Kakashi to truly catch his breath, and by then, he realized with a growing sense of real fondness that Iruka had dozed off after their exhausting session. 

Even in the near darkness, Kakashi could tell that he had bled on Iruka’s bed. He was still bleeding, even as he stood up. When he touched himself, his fingers came away scarlet-red, and he flinched. 

Oh, Iruka-sensei is going to hate this ANBU.

Kakashi got dressed with rapidity, although his body resisted any serious or quick movement on his part. He knew he would have to take off his clothes soon enough, otherwise he’d ruin them, too, but there was to be no running through Konoha while nude. 

He thought about leaving with Iruka asleep in his blood-stained bed, but when Kakashi looked back, standing fully clothed at the closed window, he found he couldn’t move. Iruka-sensei was every bit as beautiful as he had been an hour earlier, even more so. 

Kakashi stayed. A few minutes passed before Iruka awoke and looked around… with his eyes closed. Behind his double mask, cloth and porcelain, Kakashi smiled to himself. He deliberately backed against the window to signal where he was, and Iruka turned blindly towards the sound, still not willing to betray the ANBU’s trust, Kakashi’s trust.

“You can open your eyes, Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi remarked quietly.

Iruka did, and surprise filled his face, seeing Kakashi fully returned to his ANBU gear. But he almost immediately straightened and said very clearly, “Please be safe.”

Kakashi’s abused heart lurched in his chest. Be safe? Your bed is bloodied, Iruka-sensei! I’m the opposite of safe. But the three words circled around in Kakashi’s head, and they violently sparked a dark, curious interest: Would Iruka open his window again, hoping it to be him?

Well, he likely wouldn’t after he turned the lights on.

But Kakashi nodded anyway, crouched inelegantly on the window sill, and jumped away. He didn’t make it far before he had to use a Body Flicker jutsu to help him the rest of the way to his apartment. He felt not unlike Iruka when he was stumbling out of his pants as Kakashi fumbled his way to his shower. He piled his clothes on the tile and stepped into the shower long before the water had started to turn warm. He refused to wince as he watched Iruka’s cum and his own blood swirl down the drain. 

Tonight was the best and worst thing that could have happened.

Kakashi glanced down at the stitched injury of right hand, and he could see Iruka lazily, fondly, sweetly, touching each of the little metal threads.

… I’ll see if he’s okay tomorrow. Just check in from afar. I don’t have to talk to him. Just… make sure he’s okay…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And their meeting will surely go as planned. 
> 
> You know, unless Iruka is more observant than Kakashi imagines.
> 
> \---
> 
> Thank you for the kind comments, the kudos, and the subscriptions. You are all lovely, each and every one of you. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to break up what was fast becoming an astonishingly long chapter and publish this segment straightaway. The story will be 5 chapters instead of 3 as a consequence.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thank you for all the support. You are so very kind. I write wildly after receiving your comments, I really do appreciate all of your thoughts. Keep being beautiful.

Iruka lost focus again, thinking about last night. While he distantly observed the pre-genin run about the Academy training fields, he also was imagining the nude half-masked ANBU underneath him, moving upwards into Iruka’s kiss with new intense want. Iruka’s hands had felt strangely empty all day; he wondered if he should have petted the ANBU’s hair more. His thighs were enraged with him, furious to have lifted up into the other man so much the night before, and he’d had to complete a small healing jutsu to reduce the swelling of his bruised lips, lest any of the other teacher notice. 

And that just made him think –

The ANBU’s lips...!

Closing his eyes, Iruka groaned softly to himself. He hadn’t been kissed like that in years. Maybe not ever, not with the sort of desperate zeal that overtook the ANBU towards the end. His hands had done him real injustice by memorizing the feel of the ANBU’s hipbones. Now as he watched the pre-genin, standing with his own hands at his waist – he kept thinking about the ANBU’s pale, scarred skin and how his body had moved so restlessly, wantonly, when Iruka slowly fucked him…

It was a depressing reminder that he didn’t know how to contact the elite shinobi.

He obviously knew that he shouldn’t want to communicate with his ANBU: they were Konoha’s elite forces, not darling boyfriends to make breakfast for. Iruka smiled slowly to himself, thinking about cooking for the ANBU. He was an absolutely terrible cook, even though everyone believed him to be some sort of perfect domestic caretaker. There was a reason he treated Naruto to Ichiraku’s so often, and it was definitely not because the Academy paid him well. 

Maybe he could take the man to ramen?

The nasty reality of his situation struck him again, as it had already done a hundred times that morning. There was no contacting the ANBU, because he didn’t know who the ANBU was, because he was only a chuunin who had opened his window for a stranger so he could perform his duty to Konoha. Nothing more. His shoulders slumped, his dream deflated. He realized he must have been wearing a rather poor expression because one of the younger pre-genin in his class started making faces at him across the field, enthusiastically trying to get her sensei to laugh. 

As more children took notice of Iruka’s dismal mood and distracted aura, the pre-genin began collectively making funny faces at him, and eventually Iruka found himself laughing and joining in. Stretching his mouth wide, he opened his eyes big and stuck out his tongue, which was a huge hit among the children. The pre-genin flew around in laughter before inevitably one of them ran into another, starting an instantaneous flurry of skirmishes throughout the pack. As he disrupted many little fights, Iruka kept laughing, shaking his head at how kids managed to be both innocent and hellions at the same time.

His class’s ridiculous antics helped him endure the rest of the day. After the pre-genin were released back onto the world, the teachers began to filter out of the Academy, some dragging themselves away in exhaustion, others giggling, gossiping, heading to the bars. Before they left, each of his colleagues stopped by Iruka’s classroom, teasing him about staying late and being the best of them. He blushed, waved, wished them good nights and sweet dreams. 

And then he was alone again.

Grading usually proved a productive distraction, but instead Iruka kept catching glimpses of his hands and then he would stare at his fingers, flexing them, imagining silver hair in his grip. He had never been with anyone in the way he had with the ANBU. Sure, he had topped all his partners, although he switched regularly with the two chuunin. He also didn’t believe when the jounin woman he’d dated had rode him for her pleasure that he had been the one in control. But the ANBU had wanted, even needed, him in control of their sexual encounter, even if he clearly arrived with a distinctive vision in mind. 

Although his ANBU didn’t seem like he’d been fucked before. 

Iruka broke into an amused smile at his unintentional joke: No, ANBU don’t get fucked. They fuck people up, they fuck people.

So why did his ANBU want to be fucked?

Iruka couldn’t keep his thoughts philosophical. He was soon remembering his hand on the ANBU’s hard cock, their sweat comingling as the ANBU slammed down onto him, breathily laughing and moaning wildly. Iruka ignored how his groin happily responded to the vision and repurposed the memory for his own design. A reckless ANBU could mean a dead ANBU – but then again, bravery and insanity blurred frequently with elite shinobi. Certainly his ANBU was a jounin: his strength, speed, and scars could have amounted to nothing else. Iruka only knew about the sex lives of a few jounin, mostly his good-natured friends, but he had long ago gathered that they tended to be very anxious about being vulnerable in the bedroom. 

And that was the other thing – his ANBU knew him! The ANBU chose Iruka, he called him Iruka-sensei. A sudden thought snaked violently through his belly, constricting around his throat. 

Could the ANBU have been one of his former students?

Iruka was just old enough that his first cohort to be the right age to be young ANBU. His arousal dissipated so thoroughly, it was like he’d been thrown out naked into the winter cold. He could not possibly imagine any of the pre-genin making faces at him today would want to… – would want to be with him later in life?

He recoiled from the thought, pushing the students’ papers away as well. No, that wasn’t a real possibility, that would be like distorting his relationship with Naruto into something it was not and would never be. The ANBU couldn’t be a former student. A more logical part of Iruka’s brain gently assured him even further: he hadn’t taught any silver-haired boys with that build. If anything, it seemed clearer that someone outside the Academy had pursued him last night, someone who knew him only as a teacher and not the many other things he identified with. 

Had the whole thing been a teacher fetish? That wasn’t really so strange, Iruka admitted to himself. One of the chuunin he dated had enjoyed being spanked on occasion and predictably only called out ‘Iruka-sensei’ when struck. The jounin woman had been a seductress from start to finish: her purring ‘Iruka-sensei’ in his ear had motivated him quickly enough to bring her home. But none of them had fixated on his role as much as the ANBU had last night. 

In fact, had the ANBU ever just said ‘Iruka’?

A weird small part of him felt jumbled inside as he considered the possibility of being reduced to a teacher fantasy, like a sex object to be used and tossed aside. The ANBU had certainly wanted specific things from him. He’d said them so clearly (when he finally spoke the words!) – fuck my mouth, fuck me – and they had done everything he wanted. Iruka swallowed nervously: had he been romanticizing last night in his head because it was so overwhelming and unusual? Should he be more offended by the ANBU’s behavior towards him?

Iruka sat back in his chair, vacantly examining the ceiling. 

Well, no. The ANBU had definitely come in with clear intentions, but the other man had become overwhelmed a few times during their time together. Iruka was sure that he had thrown the elite shinobi with his kindness, but he simply didn’t know any other way to be. The man’s intense reaction to Iruka’s praise had been immensely arousing; it made Iruka want to compliment him while jerking him off until he came, every day, for all time. A tiny pleased suggestion rolled through him that the ANBU had almost come in his pants when he had been deepthroating Iruka and Iruka called him perfect. Iruka had known that sweetness was rare in the jounin ranks, let alone in ANBU, but what a fascinating experience...

It made Iruka want to find him right now. Tie him up to the bed, breathe loving words in his ear, fuck him slowly without worrying about sunrise, watch his bare face in the throes of orgasm.

His erection showed how incredibly thrilling the vision was, and Iruka crushed a book down on his groin right away, his face flushing in embarrassment. 

Damn that ANBU. He’s going to haunt me forever.

Iruka decided he should go home… and probably masturbate a few times. He winced as he gathered up all of his students’ papers, bleakly realizing his new nightly routine. He was relieved not to have to pull a mission desk shift tonight.

Oh! Maybe that’s it? Iruka kept walking ahead, out of the Academy, as his brain pulled at the mysterious knot of the ANBU’s masked identity. His ANBU could be a jounin who knew Iruka from his time at the mission desk. That would certainly make sense, the more Iruka considered it. ANBU were almost all jounin, and a good number of jounin were ANBU. Iruka undoubtedly interacted with plenty of jounin who were also ANBU, even if he didn’t know that part of their lives. He contemplated all the tall, lean, silver-haired shinobi that he knew and came up with a good dozen or so without pushing his mind to delve too deeply into the archives. 

Obviously there was Mizuki.

Iruka couldn’t help the disgusted expression that contorted his face. Mizuki was away in prison, and he was chuunin, anyway. Also, he was definitely not as attractive, in any way, shape, or form, as the ANBU from the night before. He felt a repulsed tension snatch at his shoulders as he remembered the sight of silver-haired, smarmy-faced Mizuki sliding towards him in the booth of their favorite bar. The dry, unpleasant feel of Mizuki’s lips on his – before Iruka had throat-punched him, told him never to try that again, and ditched him in front of two dozen other chuunin.

He hadn’t flirted again. But he had thrown a giant shuriken in Iruka’s back.

Iruka held his students’ papers tighter against his chest, grinding his teeth together at the residual flash of pain emanating from his old scar. That asshole. Using Naruto like that – how low. He violently hoped he would never have to see Mizuki again. 

The sudden memory of the ANBU’s kiss snapped back into the forefront of his thoughts. Iruka’s hands in his hair… that silver hair. That would be helpful to consider in his investigation. But, then again, he hadn’t seen many jounin naked, let alone any of the silver-haired jounin who turned in reports at the mission desk. The ANBU mask had clearly done in its job: Iruka imagined he would be able to better guess the man’s identity if he had seen his eyes. The lower portion of the elite shinobi’s face wasn’t familiar, either; none of his scars were as massive or recognizable as the one that cut over Iruka’s nose and went through both cheeks. His ANBU had that little beauty mark, a mole off on the side of his mouth, but that wasn’t something Iruka remembered seeing on anyone, either.

Sighing quietly, Iruka wondered if he would see his ANBU again. Unmasked or masked.

There was, of course, the unsettling issue of all the blood in his bed.

Iruka’s stomach clenched, and he instinctively bit the inside of his mouth. The sight had been disturbing for many reasons, but there had been one thought consistently plaguing him throughout the day: how could Iruka have not noticed his partner was bleeding? It was obviously the ANBU’s blood, that was evident by Iruka’s shower, when he found no cuts on or around his groin. Iruka felt waves of sickness spill over him once again, shame having become an ugly and frequent companion since his discovery the night before. He slowed down as he walked home; he wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, but he didn’t care. Right now, he had no interest in greeting the any number of Konoha villagers walking around him.

There was so much blood that Iruka had almost chased after the ANBU in wild concern. There was no chance that Iruka could have caught him, but maybe the man would have turned around and come out and reassured him if he had tried? But he felt stupid even considering that as a possibility. His ANBU wore a hundred or more scars – small, large, thin, thick, slight, deep – all over his body, including one that would form from the hours-old wound on his hand. He could certainly handle rough sex, he might not even have noticed or cared about the damage. The ANBU had undeniably pushed both of them to fuck at a much harder, faster pace. And he had definitely orgasmed, so it wasn’t as if the injury had slowed him down in any way.

But… did the ANBU think that was normal? To fuck until he bled? For there to be bleeding during sex?

Iruka felt something fly about his chest dazed and wild. 

Some dark, distant version of him – the shadowy little shimmer of Iruka that could have made jounin, that could have become a cold-eyed killer – recognized blood could be used as lubricant.

Is that the world where his ANBU came from? Where sex was always rough, you always bled, but that’s more than acceptable, in fact it’s good, because it helps the fucking along? Was that what his ANBU had done with other people? Is that what had happened to him before… if he had actually been fucked before?

Iruka wondered faintly if the ANBU had been too excited to prepare himself properly. If he hadn’t realized that he was bleeding because he was enjoying everything so much. Iruka certainly hadn’t noticed until afterward, and his awful inattention to his partner had become an open wound that he kept scratching all day. He knew he was tearing open the proverbial injury every time he thought about it, but he just couldn’t help himself. 

Ultimately, Iruka was the reason for the blood. His cock had done that. He had torn up the insides of the ANBU, who had survived violence and death abroad, only to be ripped apart within the safety of the village by Umino Iruka, Konoha’s supposedly dearest little teacher and chuunin.

Without thinking, Iruka closed his eyes, still walking. 

Shit. You’re the monstrous person, not him. You used him, didn’t you? You act like you cared, but in the end, you took what you wanted. You got to fuck an ANBU. You got him to remove his mask, you stole his kisses, you intimately injured him when he was weak and wanting. You’re the awful one who used blood as a lubricant.

And then Iruka tripped.

His eyes flashed open, and he saw his students’ papers take on a life of their own as he fell. They instantly flew about him, caught in the wind, and he swung out one of his arms, trying to catch himself, which only let more papers escape his grasp. 

Fuck – he hadn’t been looking where he was going at all!

Right before he slammed full-force on his forearm and knees, two strong hands caught him firmly around the waist and hauled him upwards. The other person’s hands were tight and painful on his abdomen, nearly catching his hips, the fingers dipping dangerously close to his groin. Iruka lost his breath instantly and instinctively went to elbow the person who had grabbed him and set him back on his feet. As Iruka jerked away, he spun around and started to snap out a few choice words – but – but then –

“Yo, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka went still, his mouth open, unable to utter his simultaneous “thank you” and “do not touch me like that ever again.” Because it all suddenly slid together with the mighty power of a sannin-level jutsu combined the inescapable but shocking reality of life and death in the shinobi way.

Hatake Kakashi, Copy Nin, Master of a Thousand Jutsus, stood in front of him, eye-smiling, one gloved hand held high in greeting. His ever-present blue mask just barely revealed an otherwise hidden smile. His leaf-marked hitai-ate hung generously over his Sharingan, and his wild silver hair stuck up behind the band.

And he had definitely been naked and moaning in Iruka’s bed the night before.

Iruka wasn’t able to speak for a long second, and Kakashi had begun to realize that something was happening, because his eye-smile faded, and he was suddenly looking more seriously at Iruka. He was dressed entirely in his standard shinobi garb: thick green flak jacket, blue long-sleeved shirt with the red leaf marks, matching blue pants, white bandage wrappings around his right thigh and calves, even the usual blue sandals.

Iruka’s gaze jerked back to Kakashi’s face, and he fought to control the total shock and alarm that were most certainly saturating his expression. “Ah, Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka mumbled, but he almost immediately realized he could not meet the other man’s single visible eye. Delaying his mouth from spouting anything stupid, Iruka started picking up the scattered papers on the ground around them as his brain furiously fought to catch up and contain the specifics of his stunning theory.

Alright. Hatake Kakashi has literally every physical marker as his ANBU. Every. Single. One. The long, lean body. The fearfully pale skin (did Kakashi show any skin besides a quarter of his face and his forearms and parts of his feet?). The endless scars of all kinds from distant missions and encounters with enemy nin. The lack of fear showing the bottom of his face – because he always wore a mask walking around town, and he knew Iruka wouldn’t recognize his nose, let alone his beauty mark. 

And his silver hair. Oh, that hair.

Iruka glanced up to see what Kakashi was doing and realized with a start that the elite jounin had been picking up his students’ papers as well, particularly the ones that had floated far away. Kakashi was halfway up a green-flushed tree across the street when he must have noticed Iruka’s gaze on him. Crouched on a high branch, Kakashi turned his head and rose one visible eyebrow, as if to ask why Iruka was staring at him. 

Oh… Iruka saw Kakashi’s long, slender body quite differently with the alluring image of the pale, scarred ANBU on his mattress floating through his head. At the moment, Kakashi seemed very interested in Iruka’s concentration on him, but his neutral expression – almost entirely concealed behind blue cloth – remained unreadable as always. Nonetheless, Iruka felt rather little surprise when the jounin snatched the student report from a neighboring branch and suddenly rematerialized in front of him. 

Behind his mask, Kakashi’s voice came out as it always did: mysteriously clear, a mixture of pure boredom and amusement at another’s expense. “You should take better care of yourself, Iruka-sensei. That would have been a bad landing.”

Iruka couldn’t help but stare at the other man. His eyes drifted down to Kakashi’s blue-clothed neck, and he could easily, painlessly, see his own fingers pressed tight against that expanse, where he knew they had been the night before. He drew his gaze up straightaway and found Kakashi looking at him peculiarly, as if Iruka was acting strange…

Which, of course, he was.

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka managed to say. Seemingly relieved, Kakashi handed him the best escapees of the student reports, giving him a one-shouldered shrug of casual indifference.

Shit, like he had done the night before, when the ANBU admitted he wanted Iruka to grab his head while Iruka throat-fucked him!

Iruka was in no way as fast as a jounin, and he imagined Kakashi was quicker than most jounin in Konoha or anywhere else for that matter. But his charming ‘I’m just an innocent sensei’ reputation was a perfect façade for what he wanted to do next – which was reach politely for his student papers – and then –

Iruka grabbed Kakashi’s right hand, and his fingers pushed down the leaf-marked metal in the middle of Kakashi’s glove, pressing hard through the material to feel the surface of his skin. 

Yes. There they were. Tiny ridges of metal stitches. 

“Did I hurt you?” Iruka asked desperately, his voice dark and thick. His eyes were stuck on Kakashi’s still out-reached hand, holding onto the student papers with level serenity. 

Kakashi’s response was effortless, immediate. “You’re the one who tripped, Iruka-sensei.” He sounded like the center of a hurricane: completely unruffled by Iruka’s strange grip on his hand.

“No,” Iruka replied. His eyes shot up to hold Kakashi’s surprised single-eyed gaze. “I meant did I hurt you last night.”

It took an unreasonably long beat for Iruka to realize that Kakashi was literally not moving. Not a twitch, not a blink, not a breath. He remained so frozen that Iruka wondered with sharp dread if the jounin had completed a substitution jutsu so quickly he hadn’t seen it. 

But the more that Iruka stared, the more he realized Kakashi’s visible eye – a dark brown that was very nearly black – was almost unperceptively moving as he blankly returned Iruka’s concerned stare. Iruka wasn’t sure what that meant, and he started to say something, even just Kakashi’s name, when the jounin finally returned to the land of the living.

He slipped his hand out of Iruka’s tight hold with frightening ability – and then instantly completed a Body Flicker jutsu and totally disappeared.

**

Kakashi was thinking about killing himself for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

He had been watching Iruka all day and had decided the chuunin should never be sent on a mission without entirely covering his face. Iruka-sensei had such expressive features that even a hundred yards away, Kakashi had no trouble discerning his emotional state. Of course, he wasn’t quite sure what Iruka was thinking about from moment to moment, but he had his guesses. 

Sometimes Iruka had been completely distracted in an ill depressed sort of way, like when the smallest pre-genin in the class had found a baby rabbit in the training field and pocketed it and Iruka had not remotely noticed. He had been frowning to himself and staring at the ground instead. Other times, like on Iruka’s lunch-break and after school had ended, Iruka had become flushed in the manner that he had been last night: he was clearly aroused and must have been thinking of his time with… with the ANBU. 

Kakashi did not like seeing Iruka’s mood swings. When he’d watched him before, Iruka hadn’t been this intermittently sullen. With a conflicted feeling in his chest, Kakashi recognized that he had badly affected the teacher, which had never been his intention. Not really sure what to think or do, he had cautiously followed Iruka as the man left the Academy. Kakashi stayed just a bit ahead, trying to catch a look at Iruka’s expression as the teacher dazedly walked through Konoha holding papers against his chest.

Kakashi faced a real moment of terror when, at one point while walking home, disgust exploded over Iruka’s facial features. He had rarely seen such a look coming from Iruka-sensei, and he felt his own face become pale and weak. Was Iruka thinking about him with that sort of repulsion? Was he thinking about the blood? 

Iruka’s expression continued to twist and contort in real displeasure, and Kakashi thought he was going to pass out. He shouldn’t have followed Iruka so far or all day. He was going to be a fucking waste on his next dozen missions; the Hokage was going to find him face-down in his apartment, somehow suffocated on pure guilt.

And then Iruka tripped.

Kakashi barely had time to think: he was out of the trees, across the street, and had his arms around Iruka’s waist so tightly that he instantly feared he was leaving bruises. He hastily put Iruka on his feet while easily and expertly dodging the elbow aimed towards his face. He slipped backwards, watching Iruka spin on him, and greeted him cheerily with a low “Yo, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka’s face was flushed with embarrassment and fury – and then –

He looked like he’d been struck by a strangling jutsu upon seeing Kakashi.

Kakashi hungrily studied Iruka now that he was closer to him. Iruka was remarkably handsome in the daylight: his meticulously kept pony tail had none of the stray, sweaty qualities from the night before, but Kakashi could easily replicate the sight in his mind’s eye, thanks to the Sharingan. Interposing the two images – daytime Iruka and bedroom Iruka – was a real pleasure up close. His lovely dark brown eyes quickly ran over Kakashi’s form, as if trying to gather where Kakashi was coming from or what he was suddenly doing in the street with him.

Iruka mumbled, “Kakashi-sensei,” not terribly unlike how he had said ‘ANBU-san’ and Kakashi forcibly restrained a pleased smile at the familiar tone. 

When Iruka dropped down and began picking up papers, Kakashi naturally followed suit, except he went after the ones that might be troublesome for the teacher to retrieve. More than a few had been tossed far away by the wind, but fortunately Konoha’s trees had captured them all and Kakashi was rather quite fond of hanging out in trees, having already been in them all day. After a moment, he felt a strange weight on him and turned quickly, catching Iruka staring directly at him.

I wonder if he’s thinking about asking me about my time in ANBU. Maybe if I’ve ever used the open window? Would he do that? Is that what has him all jittery and thrown?

Kakashi realized that he was probably acting strangely, too. He grabbed the student’s report – a terribly dull essay that Kakashi rolled his eyes at – and returned to Iruka-sensei, ready to conclude their encounter and resume trailing him in secret. 

Trying to conceal his pained worry for the other man, he casually remarked, “You should take better care of yourself, Iruka-sensei. That would have been a bad landing.”

Iruka slowly but very clearly looked down at Kakashi’s throat.

Kakashi promptly assumed that Iruka was reminiscing about the ANBU’s throat. He knew he’d been thinking about Iruka’s hands on him all day: he already desperately missed them, as if Iruka’s fingers had been ghosting over his skin for the last decade or eternity instead of a single fleeting night. 

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka said sweetly, which caused Kakashi to shrug off-handedly, secretly relishing the teacher’s gratitude. 

His heart gave a horrified lurch as he suddenly realized that he could never sleep with Iruka-sensei now that he had already seen Kakashi nude as an ANBU. Because that’s what was on Iruka’s expression now – interest and want. He fearfully thought maybe the teacher would try to be with him as some sort of substitute for the ANBU, who had actually been Kakashi all along, and abruptly Kakashi wanted to turn around and vomit all the soldier pills that he’d downed to stay awake so he could watch Iruka from sunrise until now.

Instead of doing any of that, though, Kakashi forced himself to push the student papers towards Iruka with his patented eye-smile plastered on the exposed portion of his face.

Iruka provided him a fleeting look of kindness, which Kakashi soaked in like a sponge as he tried to contain his immense horror that he had destroyed any possible future sexual encounters with the teacher.

But then Iruka was suddenly clenching his new wounded hand, and Kakashi’s mind went a little haywire. The pain was a very distant priority; instead, he was swiftly concerned that Iruka was about to propose something sexual or confess everything that had happened with the ANBU. He hadn’t really imagined that he would be dealing with Iruka so soon, and he tried to control the panic playing havoc with his emotions from spreading physically to his expression. 

“Did I hurt you?” Iruka’s question filled the space between them. 

Kakashi’s world slowed down. He wasn’t sure what the teacher meant. Feigning his usual tone, he replied, “You’re the one that tripped, Iruka-sensei.” The words spilled out of his mouth easily, but his mind was shredding through Iruka’s inquiry, trying to sort out the meaning of things but failing to do so quickly enough. 

Iruka’s gaze remained on his hand, and his fingers were still insistently gripping Kakashi’s gloved hand. He spoke loudly, clearly: “No.” Kakashi couldn’t hold back his surprise as those dark brown eyes, full of overwhelming concern, suddenly redirected to his face. 

“I meant did I hurt you last night.”

Kakashi’s world completely stopped.

The birds went silent. The villagers stopped moving. Iruka’s face froze. His eyes were warm and worried, his expression pinched with anxiety but not the slightest bit of uncertainty. His entire body language radiated upset. He held Kakashi’s hand with the utmost intimate sincerity and familiarity. 

Fucking shit. The sensei figured it out. 

That had taken less than a day! Less than five minutes, even! What the fuck –

And Iruka’s first question was about Kakashi injuring himself? Oh, no. Fuck no.

Kakashi stole back his hand and teleported away with a word.

He rapidly thought about suicide as the breeze slid over him. Guy would be horrified, probably demand an investigation, declaring that his hip rival would never, ever kill himself. The Hokage would lose an important ANBU and jounin – maybe even a successor? He was sure Sakura and Naruto would be traumatized beyond measure. There would be so many comments in Konoha, in distant villages, that the Copy Nin had gone the way of his father… 

Kakashi stopped and pressed himself up against a large tree, going face-first into the bark, which he had almost never done before, but he needed the sure stability, and he was trying very hard not to throw up everything in his life all at once. 

Iruka’s emanating concern was more painful than he could have imagined. How humiliating! Kakashi had obviously worried the teacher greatly by leaving behind such a mess without warning him. Fuck. Maybe he should have said something? He certainly shouldn’t have gone in Iruka’s open window in the first place, that was the real fucking lesson here. For some reason, he’d convinced himself that Iruka-sensei would not be able to piece things together, which now that he was crushing his hitai-ate-clad forehead and masked nose against the solid trunk of a tree, he realized was one of the stupidest things he’d ever come up with.

As the keen agony of embarrassment shuddered through his system, Kakashi understood now that he had gone about the whole thing too recklessly. He knew other ANBU routinely forced their temporary lovers to be blindfolded; some even tied them down with rope, silk, jutsus. Kakashi had even heard of an ANBU who used clones to use – abuse? – her one-night paramours when she returned from particularly vile missions, to precisely and thoroughly control them. 

But Kakashi hadn’t wanted any of that for Iruka. He’d given up control to Iruka-sensei as easily and subserviently as he collected the student papers for him. He had shown too much of himself, physically and otherwise. He had told himself full nudity wouldn’t matter because no one ever saw him without clothes, never studied his scars. He had happily pushed aside his ANBU mask for his own selfish objectives, wanting to taste Iruka, feel the man’s cock down his throat. If the Hokage ever found out he had willingly revealed even part of his face, she would likely permanently plaster it to his skull and heal him through the ensuing infections while still choking him one-handed. 

He’d even fully removed his mask!

Kakashi crouched low on the branch in new shame but refused to put his head in his hands. He breathed in the stirring smells of the forest, trying to stabilize his riotous reaction to being discovered.

But instead he was quickly realizing that Iruka must be reimagining last night with Kakashi as the ANBU – and Kakashi shoved his scarred cheek against the tree, scratching his hitai-ate against the wood. 

Oh, no. All the things he asked him to do! All the things they did…

It was immeasurably selfish to want Iruka to stay in the dark. He’d known he was greedy last night, but now that Iruka had so clearly identified him, Kakashi understood with a sick sinking feeling that he really had been selfish in wanting to keep such a vital component of the experience to himself. Iruka deserved to know who was in his bedroom. He was far too good and generous to have someone as sneaky and sinister as Kakashi controlling the situation, withholding precious knowledge from him.

Kakashi’s brain did him a disservice as he thought about last night.

The very feel of Iruka was unforgettable. All that warm, soft skin. The slope of his neck… His tragic, perfect scars – on his face, on his back. His gentle touches, all over Kakashi, in places that he didn’t think anyone had ever touched before. 

And Iruka’s kisses were unbearable now. Kakashi felt like an addict suddenly: he would do almost anything to have just one more kiss from Iruka.

How was he ever going to go on another mission knowing that he had nothing to return to? Nothing like Iruka, anyway. Kakashi knew he could go in any open window on his next homecoming as ANBU, but… Iruka’s kisses… his rough breathing on Kakashi’s neck… his hands in Kakashi’s hair… 

Kakashi’s skin flushed as he fell into the epiphany that now Iruka knew Hatake Kakashi, the Copy Nin, wanted to be fucked. Maybe not the whole thing – that Kakashi really only wanted to be fucked by Iruka – but the teacher must now consider Kakashi to be the outrageous pervert that all of Konoha thought he was as he wandered the village with Icha Icha in hand. What did Iruka think now that he knew Kakashi was the ANBU – and that he shamelessly requested to be throat-fucked? That the ANBU liked his hair getting pulled? That the ANBU was apparently terrible at preparing himself, and had bled while getting fucked, and didn’t notice because he wasn’t actually an elite shinobi but instead was a wanting whore, desperately begging to have cock deep inside him?

Kakashi moved his hitai-ate upwards and roughly palmed the Sharingan. His other eye – his real eye – had been brimming with unshed tears, he was devastated and disgusted to realize. But the Sharingan had also begun to throb, as if he’d been using it too much in battle. 

He rose on his feet, turning around so his back was against the tree, still rubbing the Sharingan and eventually his other eye, forcing the moisture away. After a while, Kakashi pulled down his hitai-ate and leaned his head back on the bark. 

Iruka-sensei… hadn’t looked repulsed, though.

No, he had just been unbelievably worried. And worry meant care, right? Wasn’t worry the opposite of rejection?

Kakashi slowly considered the absurd thought as it floated by. His eye drifted down to look at his injured right hand, which Iruka had just grabbed with unexpected force and tenderly touched the night before. 

There was the very real possibility that Iruka-sensei was completely disgusted with him, utterly insulted that Kakashi had slipped into his bedroom and tricked him into having sex. But, then again, Iruka was better, kinder, than most people. He hadn’t used his power over Kakashi to punch him, blackmail him, run off to tell the Hokage. Kakashi realized that he hadn’t considered that Iruka could send Naruto after him in revenge – until now. Damn, that would be bad.

But Iruka hadn’t done anything like that. He’d taken his one opportunity to grab Kakashi’s hand and ask him if – if Iruka had hurt him?

Now that Kakashi was more clearly contemplating their interaction, it occurred to him that Iruka-sensei hadn’t been asking if Kakashi was hurt… but had Iruka hurt him?

Kakashi walked forward on the branch, turning around to squint down the dirt road. He’d gone a huge distance without thinking and was well outside the gates of Konoha. He was no Byakugan-user, but his imagination was suddenly full-force right back into the village. 

Had he just left Iruka with a terrible fucking mess – again?

His shoulders slumped. 

Oh, he definitely had. 

Well, time to be brave, you selfish prick.

Kakashi jumped down onto the dirt and began walking, no jutsu, no chakra. He needed time to think, and he didn’t want to see Iruka in the daylight, not again, not so soon.

But tonight…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that he knows the real identity of his mysterious ANBU, just what does Iruka think? How will he process his newfound knowledge with his memories of the night before? We'll find out soon!


	4. Chapter 4

Last night, he held Hatake Kakashi down and fucked him.

He sucked Kakashi’s cock, admired his silver pubic hair.

He grabbed Kakashi, pushed into his mouth, throat-fucked him.

He had the best fuck of his life… with Hatake Kakashi… who was also ANBU, the Copy Nin, Master of a Thousand Jutsus… the son-of-a-bitch with the worst handwriting in all of Konoha, the jounin sensei of his most beloved student, the legendary killer who had made chuunin at six and then ANBU in short order, the man who had listened to him and given him advice.

He. Had. Kissed. Kakashi...!

Without thinking, Iruka ghosted his fingers over his lips. He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the far wall, as he stared at his newly made bed. He had gotten little sleep last night after the ANBU – … Kakashi – had left: Iruka had taken off the sheets, thrown them in the wash, scrubbed his mattress with chemical cleaners, put on a new set of bedsheets, and, after all that, he had still decided to sleep on his futon in the living room. 

Iruka found himself unable to climb back into the bed where he had just been with his mysterious ANBU…

… who was actually Hatake Kakashi.

Not for the first time since he had returned home, Iruka clenched his hands into shaking fists, pressing them harshly into his thighs. His mind swirled in turmoil: he kept looking at his bed, trying to piece together what he knew about Kakashi with his memory of the ANBU. While he was sporadically successful, he also felt like a total failure. 

Four hours earlier, when Kakashi had vanished from in front of him, Iruka had nearly dropped all his student papers again, not out of continued clumsiness but sheer fucking frustration. He only understood that he was gawking uncontrollably at the spot where Kakashi had been when a kindly elderly villager had stopped beside him and asked politely, “Are you feeling unwell, Iruka-sensei?” 

Iruka had forced himself not to explode with a whole litany of inappropriate details and incoherent emotion, because there was no way to properly explain away what he wanted to scream, which was something like, “Last night I fucked an ANBU and it turns out it’s my FRIEND, Hatake Kakashi! And I want to keep fucking him! FOREVER! But he just totally disappeared when I confronted him, so I’m going to go kill myself, or jerk off while I cry endlessly, maybe both, I really don’t know yet! BUT HOW ARE YOU, SEKIMOTO-SAN?”

He instead had gritted his teeth, smiled through violent pained etiquette, said he was quite fine, thank you, and stormed straight home, ruining the edges of his student reports in his furious grip. Iruka had thrown the papers wildly in the air when he finally got inside his apartment and drop-kicked his messenger bag, which crashed into his dining table, taking out one of the chairs. He stood shuddering in the middle of the room for a while, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms. His expression screwed so tightly on his face that he could feel his very bones protesting at his fury. 

His traitorous thoughts pinged all over the spectrum. From wrapping his shaking hands around Kakashi’s neck and choking him to death – then to caressing Kakashi’s throat, gently kissing his bare jaw – then to spreading his hands over Kakashi’s taut stomach and muscled chest, fondly studying his scars – then remembering how he had begged Kakashi to let him kiss him! 

He would beg for Kakashi’s kiss again. Iruka knew that truth in all its keen, piercing agony. 

Tension wracked Iruka’s form. His heart had stopped angrily pounding from adrenaline and instead had started tumbling in torment about his chest. He wrenched his gaze across his apartment, his worries and realizations merging in clumsy, furious force. So, the ANBU had really been Kakashi, and Kakashi had known the whole time, and now Iruka knew, too. While the discovery baffled Iruka to no end, confused exhilaration devoured the rest of his senses. 

He, Umino Iruka, had kissed Hatake Kakashi! Konoha’s dearest sensei – and the Copy Nin!

And – Kakashi’s body was beautiful, and his mouth, sinful, and his – 

Iruka slumped onto the floor, burying his face in his hands. He finally had to confront the worst thing about knowing his ANBU was his friend Kakashi…

He liked Kakashi. Regardless of last night, he liked Kakashi. He had one of those soft sweet crushes on the other man for years, the sort of thing that caused butterflies in his stomach, a faint blush to rise on his cheeks, the occasional fantasy to stroke himself to completion. How could he not like Kakashi? The silver-haired jounin might be as aggravating as a pre-genin, but his intentions were insanely good-natured, even if he implemented them in exceptionally strange and frustrating ways. When Kakashi had listened to Iruka mope and sulk about his uncertainties, honestly more than a few times, it had only made Iruka’s crush on him more resolute. 

Of course, Iruka never had a chance to be with Kakashi. That wasn’t even the point of his crush! He harbored a distant appreciation of a peculiar but dedicated heart… and a strong yet pretty body… and a fascinating mostly-disguised face. He kept his secret small adoration of the other man to himself for years and years. Even when Kakashi had been an asshole and pushed Iruka’s students to be nominated as chuunin, Iruka had gone home, thinking of how pissed he would be if Kakashi was right. And he was. Because of course he was.

But now with the open window… Iruka bit at his knuckle, wincing to himself. So, Kakashi wanted to sleep with him, and he had taken his opportunity while concealed as ANBU. Iruka tried to replay the events of last night in chronological order, but he only found ambiguous imagery of pale scarred skin and lovely silver hair and dark moans in blurred disorder. He soon felt a sickly fear climbing over his shoulders, and he bit down harder into his own skin as a solitary but sinister idea settled over him.

Kakashi only wanted him for sex. 

Sprawled across his living room floor, Iruka leaned over his knees and pressed his forehead into the wood. He realized he must have been groaning quietly to himself, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t help but experience the revulsion of rejection. He had never thought anything would happen between him and Kakashi, but now something had, something distinctly sexual and lacking in the affection he’d always foolishly imagined and desired. Kakashi had made himself perfectly clear when he used the open window: he wasn’t interested in Umino Iruka that way. He didn’t want to take Iruka on dates. He didn’t want to be seen in public holding hands with Iruka. He didn’t want to drop by the mission desk and sweep Iruka off his feet. 

Kakashi wanted Iruka-sensei the sex object. It was so painfully, thoroughly, obvious. The bruises on Iruka’s shoulders – the rage of his sore thighs – the blood – the cum – all utterly proved it.

Although Iruka thought he couldn’t feel any lower, he suddenly realized that Kakashi may have only wanted one night with him.

Just one night! What an asshole! Who would do that to another man? Who would come through someone’s open window, request kinky things and kiss like a man starved for love? 

Apparently Kakashi would. 

Iruka had pulled himself off his living room floor, nausea tearing through him. He crept into his bathroom, slipping down on the tile, staring into the toilet. He could taste bile climbing up the back of his throat. He felt so incredibly stupid all of a sudden: how could he have imagined any ANBU would want to see him again? Shit, he wasn’t special, there were other Academy teachers, there were a hundred other chuunin, there were endless available partners all over Konoha. He knew too well how many open windows there were across the village. Kakashi had probably used most of them since the open window policy started a year and a half ago. He had only gone into Iruka’s last night because he’d never seen it open before: he wanted to try something new, he wanted to enjoy Iruka’s body, cock, mouth, hands. 

It was no fucking surprise that Kakashi had disappeared when Iruka had called him on their time together! Kakashi didn’t want to be identified – because he wasn’t interested in Iruka that way, not really, not more than a quick taste and a single night. Knowing Kakashi, the jounin had probably followed him today, just a little, to see if he wasn’t dumbly traumatized by the whole thing. 

And, oh, yes, Iruka was traumatized. He was haunted. He was plagued.

Even as he coughed up a bit of bile into the toilet, Iruka reminded himself just how stupid he was being, stupid, so stupid. He had thought he deserved something terrible for injuring the ANBU, but he had not been prepared for karma to round upon him and smash him dead in the face. He had injured Hatake Kakashi, Copy Nin, who had come through his window to bodily use him. His stomach seized, and Iruka wondered blindly if he had eaten enough today. When only bile followed again, Iruka flinched and jerked back, wiping at his mouth. No, he had drunk too much black tea and not eaten enough food. His mind had been so distracted by the ANBU – who he was – how to find him – that he’d barely had his lunch – and he was soon dragging himself into the kitchen to rectify yet another one of his dumb mistakes.

Iruka found an apple tucked away in a cabinet, which he consumed ferociously before he forced himself into his bedroom, back to where he had seen Kakashi as ANBU. His room was in better order than it had been the night before due to all his cleaning, but Iruka couldn’t get but two steps into the space. He realized what had happened earlier with Kakashi collecting his student papers was just pity, pure unadulterated pity. The other man knew Umino Iruka – weak, wrong, little chuunin Iruka – and he was being protective and pitying all at once. How depressing it must have been to see your one-night lover trip in the street! 

Was that a part of it? That Iruka was just a chuunin, and the idea of him being the dominant one was weird and impossible and interesting because it was complete nonsense?

Because Kakashi had unquestionably loved Iruka in control. Why, Iruka wasn’t sure.

Could Kakashi have found it funny as well as arousing? Was that possible?

Iruka blushed so heavily that he could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. Damn it. Kakashi probably had a completely different version of last night, one where Iruka was hilarious and absurd in his artificial position of control. Iruka remembered all the different times that the ANBU – Kakashi – had laughed at him, and it suddenly made sense, too much sense. He ducked his head in instant shame. 

He moved against the wall, choosing an arbitrary spot to slide down, sit, and stare at his bed. 

How was he ever going to face Kakashi again? Iruka always worked the mission desk, and while Kakashi reported to the Hokage directly as ANBU, he also received and completed all kinds of jounin missions, at all hours, in all seasons. He wouldn’t be able to avoid Kakashi… unless he quit his voluntary work at the mission desk. Iruka’s hands became fists, and he tried not to scream. How much was he about to lose because he opened his damn window? His dignity – and his duty to Konoha – all gone, just like that? 

And what had he gained? A new kind of heartache? A sort of unfathomable agony reserved for the cruelest genjutsu? All the memories of him and the ANBU – of him and Kakashi – mercilessly replayed in his head, as if to remind him of his mistakes, laid out in a jumbled row of want and need.

It was all too terrible to understand. 

Iruka’s heart couldn’t stand the pieces that came back to him. They seemed sweet, so sweet, and Kakashi’s response had seemed so sincere. When Iruka had pleaded with the ANBU to not hurt himself, tenderly holding the man’s face in his hands, and the ANBU – well, Kakashi, actually – had perked up and looked relieved and excited by the compliment. It really had seemed as if Kakashi enjoyed Iruka’s praise! 

And later – when Iruka dared ask for a kiss, Kakashi had been so unwilling initially, but when he finally gave in, he wanted Iruka’s kiss, he wanted it badly. He’d urged the kissing to be deeper, he’d licked Iruka’s mouth, he was so disheartened when Iruka pulled away. 

The faint sound of Kakashi’s whine of disappointment echoed in Iruka’s ears. He straightened against the wall, leaning his head back, as he tried to think about Kakashi’s reaction to him stopping their kissing. Kakashi… had certainly wanted to keep kissing. The exquisite vision of Kakashi’s flushed lower face and his love-bruised lips flew to the very front of Iruka’s imagination. Kakashi had definitely been thrown by Iruka’s kissing, at least at first, but he had soon enough wanted it desperately, something simple and sweet like a kiss. 

Relaxing his hands and spreading them over his floor, Iruka worked through the puzzle of the night before. Had Kakashi not kissed other people when he went through their open windows? He hadn’t asked Iruka to kiss him at any point – but – wait – Kakashi had kissed him right away, hadn’t he? Not on the mouth, but he had purposefully kissed Iruka’s neck. Those were strange kisses, soft and gentle and loving. Sure, they had become explicit and wet, and Iruka had worried fleetingly the ANBU would bite down and leave his neck covered with bruises, but Kakashi never had. He’d kissed Iruka’s neck, even while Iruka worriedly stammered, and –

And then Kakashi had kissed him bare-faced after they changed positions! Damn! That was the reason Kakashi took off his mask, wasn’t it? So he could more easily kiss Iruka? 

So Kakashi could more easily kiss Iruka.

Iruka’s eyes lifted to his bed: he could almost see the two of them intertwined. Kakashi would be maskless, his ANBU identity set aside, and his legs would be moving with jounin strength, fucking himself on Iruka’s cock. His silver hair would be wild and soaked in sweat. Both his eyes would be watching Iruka – the black eye and the open spinning-red Sharingan. Iruka’s hand would be tight on Kakashi’s cock, as Kakashi breathily moaned against Iruka’s mouth. 

Kakashi had come when Iruka kissed him! Well, when Iruka bit Kakashi’s lip. And pulled his hair. At the same time. While fucking him.

Oh, that had been good… really, really good. Iruka couldn’t help the smug smile that rose to his face. He knew he had made Kakashi come beautifully, even if he hadn’t seen it. He – Umino Iruka! – had truly aroused the elite jounin, from start to finish. Yes, Iruka had done everything Kakashi wanted, but he got what he wanted, too, including the most passionate kissing he had in years, possibly his life. He hadn’t let Kakashi do whatever pitiful kind of sex that he thought passed for fucking; they instead had gotten to see each other, at least most of each other, and it had been brilliant and haunting and good, even with the alarming aftermath.

Shame was dissipating from Iruka’s chest, humiliation rising off his shoulders. He blinked a few times as he suddenly addressed a curious thought: had Kakashi used his Sharingan on Iruka during their time together? Iruka pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his smile into his knees, deeply pleased with the idea that Kakashi had memorized any part of their sexual encounter. Kakashi wouldn’t have had much opportunity to do so – except maybe at the start, when he was kissing Iruka’s neck, and then at the end, when he didn’t have his ANBU mask on.

Iruka felt warmth spread over him. Oh, Kakashi had definitely used the Sharingan when they were both orgasming, that was wickedly clear now. What had he said to Iruka? “You’re too fucking beautiful.” Kakashi had absolutely memorized their ecstasy with a voice that husky and gorgeous, his hands so sweaty and clinging, his body roughly meeting Iruka’s… 

Iruka laughed into his knees, immensely relieved. Okay, so maybe Kakashi had enjoyed him for sex, quite a lot even, but perhaps his friend seemed to be a little enamored, too. That whine – those kisses – that he definitely used his Sharingan to capture the visual and sound for all time – 

Maybe Kakashi had caught him in the road when he tripped not because he was embarrassed by his dumb lover – but because he was concerned. He was worried about Iruka. Maybe Kakashi had followed him for a while, not just for a little bit, but perhaps for a long while? 

… Could Kakashi have followed him all day? He had done it before, at least once or twice. Iruka had only figured it out when Guy had tackled Kakashi out of a tree in the Academy yard while challenging Kakashi so boisterously that it scared all of the birds away. Iruka hadn’t known the jounin was hanging around the Academy until then, and, when he had looked outside, he was astonished to find a sudden wrestling match under his window. Holding down a stunned-looking Kakashi, Guy had thoroughly exposed Kakashi’s habits by declaring, “YOU ARE HERE AGAIN, RIVAL!” Neither of them had been expecting Kakashi to vanish completely, but Guy took the man’s disappearance in stride, waving brightly at Iruka and asking excitedly if he needed a guest speaker in class.

Iruka startled at the memory. Did Kakashi often vanish when things became uncomfortable? Or – wait! – was that his reaction to when things became uncomfortable around him and… Iruka?

Iruka stood, feeling his fears physically leave his form. He would need to take more than one risk for this to turn out well, but if he was right, he and Kakashi might just have another night together. Maybe a few nights. Maybe more than a few nights.

He crossed his bedroom and pushed open his window. Not too high. Just enough. A passerby would assume he wanted to air out his room. More importantly, ANBU wouldn’t view it as an invitation.

But Kakashi had followed him all day. While Iruka wasn’t sure where Kakashi went when he vanished, he imagined the silver-haired jounin would reappear in due time, and hopefully he would see the partially open window and take it for what it was – a request to come inside.

**

Iruka’s bed had born witness to his worst moments. 

He had laid there for days in painful post-hospital recovery after Mizuki’s shuriken smashed into his back, so close to his spine. He had cried into its pillows after breaking up with each of his partners. He had seen too many nights of excessive drinking that ended in him throwing up – and not always in the toilet or the trashcan. He had woken up from nightmares that ranged from pre-genin mobbing him like Naruto’s shadow clones to being forced to kill a child to save Konoha.

Now, a full day after Iruka had fucked Kakashi and made him bleed on his bed, he was sitting at the edge of the same mattress, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the clean bedsheets. 

He felt drunk and hungover at once. Memories of last night running through his head. Worries about the present overwhelming him, so many concerns and fears, each inspiring dread. Brief bursts of optimism and excitement about the future, swallowed right up by his insecurity. 

He never looked at the slightly open window. It would be bad luck. Plus he might vomit again.

An hour later, when Kakashi’s gloved hand caught the window-sill and pushed it further open from the outside, Iruka carefully looked up to observe his entrance. The silver-haired jounin swung inside far too gracefully, betraying his effortless skill. Once inside Iruka’s bedroom, Kakashi instantaneously dropped into an indifferent slouch, his hands pressed deep into his pockets. He was still wearing his usual shinobi attire, including his hitai-ate slung over his Sharingan and his blue mask covering most of his face. His single visible eye locked on Iruka’s face – and he said absolutely nothing. 

Kakashi’s expression remained utterly unreadable, but it was almost always that way. He certainly appeared unconcerned about the present situation, there was no denying that. But Kakashi’s focus was so pressingly fixed on Iruka and literally nothing else in the room – it seemed to be a dead giveaway that he was fixated on Iruka, although the reason behind such concentration stayed enigmatic as ever.

Iruka knew he should be strategic and thoughtful about his next move, but he instead found himself immediately asking, unmoving from the bed, staring right back at Kakashi, “Did I hurt you?”

Kakashi barely let him finish the question before he replied with a perfectly concise, “No.” He sounded infinitely bored with the inquiry, and his expression and stance did not change a bit. With his mask on, Iruka might have even thought that Kakashi hadn’t spoken, but he heard the word clearly enough, and Kakashi had undoubtedly meant his single syllable response.

Iruka wasn’t interested in such a quick dismissal. He looked incredulously at Kakashi, still standing dispassionately beside the window. “That was a lot of blood for nothing,” Iruka noted aloud, and, receiving no reaction, he glared at Kakashi, frowning deeply. When Kakashi continued to stay silent, staring at Iruka, it provoked him enough to accuse himself in front of the other man. “I obviously hurt you.” The words were like ash on Iruka’s tongue, but he pushed himself to conclude and maintain eye contact as he did so. “I’m sorry, Kakashi.”

Kakashi’s visible eye seemed to widen just slightly. He shifted his weight, almost as if he was literally taken aback, before he redirected his single-eyed gaze to Iruka’s ceiling. When he spoke, his voice was achingly quiet, so much so that Iruka had to lean forward to hear him. “I didn’t prepare myself enough. That’s my fault, not yours.”

Damn. He had actually fucked Kakashi last night, after all.

A small part of him had wondered if Kakashi would slip through his window, shrug off the allegation that they had been together, and warn Iruka not to jump to conclusions. But, instead Kakashi admitted it rather easily… and quite sadly, too. He was now staring at the ceiling instead of Iruka, and, even though his stance hadn’t changed, he actually looked incredibly awkward.

A blush rolling up his cheeks, Iruka forced himself to ask quietly, “Are you okay now?” He didn’t know how to politely inquire about Kakashi’s injury from their rough night together, but he desperately wanted to be reassured. He was sure he was going to embarrass Kakashi even more by asking – 

– which was very much the case, he realized, as Kakashi’s gaze flicked straight across the ceiling, as if he was rolling his eyes, and his reply sounded like the pestered whine of an Academy student sick being scolded, “Yes, sensei, I’m fine.”

Iruka ducked his head slightly. Okay, so he’d apologized and made sure Kakashi had recovered! Important steps, but just the first ones of the night. He pushed off the bed, all while avoiding looking at Kakashi’s face, and walked past the motionless jounin to his open window. He firmly closed the window and drew the curtains tight over the frame, relying on the nightstand lamp to cast the room in a soft golden glow. As Iruka turned, he noticed that Kakashi had incrementally shifted his head, his single-eyed gaze following Iruka until they were standing beside each other. They were now in terribly close proximity, so much so that Iruka could have sworn he felt Kakashi’s body heat, although honestly it could just have been his own.

Iruka drove courage through his veins as he resumed eye contact with Kakashi. Iruka was breathing a little too heavily, and his fingers were clutching the side of his own pants to stay still. In contrast, Kakashi seemed utterly unchanged by their nearness, although his concentration remained absolutely on Iruka. Staring at Kakashi just a few feet away, Iruka mustered out the words in one rushed rapid question: “Can I see your face, please?”

Kakashi remained eerily still for a second before he tilted his head to the side. His visible eye squinted suspiciously at Iruka before he remarked, far too casually, “You saw every inch of me last night, Iruka-sensei. Why would you want to see my face now?”

The faint heat in Iruka’s cheeks blossomed wildly out of his control. He whipped his gaze from Kakashi’s and gestured into the air between them, declaring with a surprising amount of irritation and embarrassment, “I just want to see you again, don’t be a jerk!”

A few silent static moments passed between them with Iruka glaring at his bedroom floor, overcome by the stupidity and vulnerability of his request. But Kakashi’s hands soon fled the sanctuary of his pockets, and Iruka couldn’t control the excited butterflies in his stomach as he turned back to look. With deliberate slowness, Kakashi hooked his fingers on both sides of his blue mask and tugged down once, forcing the cloth to drop below his chin and cling to his throat. 

Iruka stared.

It was his ANBU’s face, there was no mistaking it. Kakashi’s full face had the same pale white skin, sharp jawline, thin pretty lips, small beauty mark. The deep scar of his Sharingan went past his Konoha hitai-ate, dragging down his cheek but ending just before where Iruka had kissed the night before. But Iruka perfectly remembered Kakashi’s face: he’d spent too long holding, caressing, kissing, that skin and those lips last night to forget it all so soon. 

He wanted to kiss Kakashi. Desperately. Right now. Forever.

Observing Iruka’s enraptured attention, Kakashi’s silver eyebrow rose, and his pale lips slid into a slight smile. Iruka was still intently watching the jounin’s mouth when Kakashi inquired softly, somehow both dangerous and light at the same time, “See anything you’d like?”

When Iruka glanced up at Kakashi’s face, he suddenly realized a faint blush was coloring the other man’s cheeks. He could feel how hot his own cheeks were, and he marveled that Kakashi had managed to remain so cool and collected through their interaction, however brief it had been thus far. But that soft little blush – oh, he had been embarrassing Kakashi by ogling him!

Iruka instantly pivoted on his feet and stepped away from Kakashi, bunching up his shoulders as he moved. With his back to Kakashi, Iruka pressed a shaky hand to smooth down his hair and nearly bit at his knuckle again. Those were the same words Kakashi had said last night – when Iruka asked him to remove his ANBU mask...! Except then it had been, “See anything you’d like to fuck?” and Iruka had shoved him away, offended and caught off-guard. 

Tonight, Iruka partially turned around and glanced back at Kakashi, who was inspecting him seriously, his face still exposed, the soft smile gone from his face. 

“Why did you choose me?” Iruka asked, nearly inaudible.

Kakashi’s exposed eye narrowed, and his mouth went tight. He immediately gave his answer in the form of an elusive but steadily spoken question: “Who else would I choose?” He seemed distantly perplexed at Iruka’s inquiry, and he had begun to stare at Iruka with a sharply critical one-eyed gaze.

Iruka turned around fully, sudden anger filling him, and he threw his hands out at his sides, exasperated with the other man’s vague responses. He snapped out, “I’m serious, Kakashi!”

Kakashi looked a bit mystified for a moment before he replied, sounding somewhat insulted, even defensive, “I’m being serious, too, Iruka-sensei.”

Surprised by the intensity of his comment, Iruka wilted slightly. His thoughts scattered to the wind as he tried to comprehend Kakashi’s meaning. Who else would he choose? How about anyone in the village? Anyone else who had their window open? Someone Kakashi didn’t know? Someone that Kakashi actually found interesting? Iruka’s confusion tumbled his thoughts forward, and he suddenly stared up at Kakashi, his expression turning skeptical. 

“Do you have a teacher kink?” Iruka abruptly demanded.

All within the span of a second, Kakashi’s visible eye widened considerably, and his cheeks turned a solid bright red. He went so utterly rigid that it seemed as if he might have caught a sudden kunai in the back of his skull. Iruka was so completely astonished by Kakashi’s reaction that he stumbled back and put his hands up defensively, waving away his own question. “No, no, no,” Iruka stammered incessantly, unable to tear his eyes from Kakashi’s totally exposed blush. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have asked that – it’s just –”

Kakashi slowly crept a hand back into his silver hair, causing Iruka to cut his blabbering short. When Kakashi replied, his voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t hold Iruka’s gaze. “I didn’t think of it like that. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Iruka-sen…” Kakashi froze mid-word, his eye narrowing in realization as he internally heard himself complete the phrase, ‘Iruka-sensei.’ 

Kakashi looked sharply up at Iruka, and he appeared so very mortified that Iruka suddenly burst into laughter. He didn’t mean to laugh at Kakashi’s expense, but he couldn’t stop himself, and even when it died down to just giggles, he still could feel a smile filling his entire face. Continuing to laugh just slightly, Iruka shrugged in relieved amusement, scratching at his cheek. He reminded Kakashi mildly, “You never called me Iruka last night.”

The jounin paused, clearly recalling the night before, leading Iruka to blush in awkward surprise. After a moment, Kakashi’s shoulders slumped as he realized what he had done, and he looked sheepishly back at Iruka. He then admitted guiltily, “I just always think of you as Iruka-sensei.”

The relieved moment was unfortunately a brief one. Iruka soon felt his smile slipping away as Kakashi returned to his serious, unsolvable self. The bedroom also gathered back its oppressive, uncertain air, leaving the two staring uneasily at each other. As if his series of comments had been an overwhelming burden, Kakashi appeared unready to speak again. At his end, Iruka began to newly worry about why Kakashi choose him – if it wasn’t to fulfill a teacher fantasy – and he was coming up with very little other explanation.

He carefully examined the jounin, his knowledge of Kakashi’s skilled jutsu becoming a persistent nuisance, forcing him to wonder again if there was some sort of power differential that Kakashi got off on. Was it the impossibility of a chuunin being the dominant one? The relief that Kakashi could take over and be in control at any possible second? He certainly seemed as mysterious as ever standing in Iruka’s bedroom; strangely, he had been more forthright the night before when he was wearing an ANBU mask. Iruka glanced down uncertainly, fidgeting with his hands. Should he ask again – why me? Or would Kakashi just play dumb again?

Iruka nearly jumped out of his skin when Kakashi suddenly spoke, using an abnormally stilted and forced tone, “You can tell the Hokage that I’ve compromised my identity, if you want.” Even as Iruka stared at him in total confusion, Kakashi only continued onwards monotonously, “You can tell her what I did to you, too.” His exposed face provided no further explanation of his meaning, his expression utterly neutral and unperturbed. To make matters worse, Kakashi’s full face was fascinating and very distracting and not fucking helpful at all.

Iruka tried to understand but found he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t. Instead, he echoed Kakashi’s words, incredulous and bewildered, “What you did to me?” He shook his head back and forth and emphatically asserted, “I did things to you! You did – what? I mean, I guess you gave me a blowjob?” Then the first part of Kakashi’s statement caught up with Iruka, and, shock scaring straight up his spine, he was rapidly sputtering aloud while staring at Kakashi, “Why would I ever tell the Hokage about what we did!” When Kakashi didn’t respond, Iruka gestured violently between the two of them. “What we do stays between you and me. I’m not sharing this with anyone!” Iruka concluded firmly, an ashamed blush flowing back into his cheeks, “I know you don’t want me to tell anyone, so I won’t.”

Kakashi’s visible eye showed slight confusion, and his mouth had dropped into a faint frown. He seemed just as unable to understand the other man as Iruka had felt only a moment earlier. He shifted his weight and asked slowly, “Why wouldn’t I want you to tell anyone?”

Iruka stared in disbelief at him. Kakashi was going to make him say it? He knew jounins could be difficult – he knew that all too well! – but embarrassing Iruka into declaring what was so damn obvious – it bordered on unforgivable. Kakashi had done the same thing the night before as the ANBU, making Iruka ask him what he wanted, was he actually awake, did he really want to fuck Iruka. Suddenly finding himself just as frustrated as the night before, Iruka crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head to the side, before declaring tightly, “You came in through my window because you wanted sex, nothing else.”

As if Kakashi was totally unaware he was on thin ice, he immediately repeated Iruka’s comment right back at him: “I only wanted sex…? Nothing else?” He sounded distantly bewildered. When Iruka turned to glower at him in aggravation, he unexpectedly found Kakashi’s expression to be one of contemplative confusion directed solely at him.

“Don’t be dumb,” Iruka hissed, his face reddening even further. “You didn’t ask me out on a date, Kakashi-sensei. You climbed through my window with a mask on your face. You obviously don’t want to be with me romantically.” The words fell out of his mouth in pure spitting anger, but as soon as they were in the air between them, Iruka felt instantly defeated. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t get so stirred up, so bothered, that he would confess all his feelings in one outrageously stupid rush, but here he was, he had just done it.

He dropped his gaze from Kakashi, not caring anymore to watch the other man’s mysterious features. Iruka wrapped his arms further around himself, more protectively this time. Surrendering to the knowledge he would be revealing the raw ugly wounded side of himself, he muttered more roughly, “You know, I was relieved when I realized it was you.” Iruka felt his face contort in hot embarrassment, and he resolutely refused to look at the jounin standing in his bedroom. “I thought – I could actually ask you out to ramen. I wouldn’t have to keep my window open every night, hoping you’d come back.” 

Iruka tightened his hands too harshly on his sides, but the pain was a needed welcome distraction from being so damnably, awfully honest to what was an unbearably silent elite shinobi. He winced: when he did, he realized soft unshed tears had stuck to his eyelashes. Ignoring his visceral pain and just how humiliating it was to be seen nearly crying because he cared and Kakashi clearly didn’t, Iruka concluded by willingly turning to self-deprecation, “I’ll have sex with you again, Kakashi-sensei, but I want it to be you, not you wearing an ANBU mask. I’m not much, I know that, but I can’t stand to pretend we don’t know each other. I don’t understand why you’d want me to –” he stumbled over the word, closing his eyes when he was unable to say it confidently, preferring to hide in darkness, “ – to fuck you without me knowing it’s you, but I’d rather know. I didn’t want to be cruel with the ANBU last night, and I’m glad I wasn’t, because you deserve kindness, but I do, too, and being strung along isn’t fair to me. Even if it’s just a secret… sex thing between us.”

He knew he finished lamely, but Iruka felt prompt choking killing his words, and he belatedly realized that emotion had finally stolen his voice. He kept his eyes closed, not willing to look at Kakashi, who really never revealed much of anything anyway. 

As Iruka swallowed down the painful lump in his throat, he felt two insanely hard hands catch both of his elbows, forcibly straightening his arms, and, flashing his eyes open, he realized horrifically that Kakashi was inches away from his face, staring at him with crazed intent.

**

When he climbed into Iruka’s bedroom for a second time, Kakashi determined that he would not be killing himself, not until he settled things properly with Iruka and probably left behind more significant legal paperwork for the Hokage and Guy. The next few minutes probably would be the most embarrassing of his life – unless something truly astonishing happened years from now, but he severely doubted anything would ever rank as excruciating as explaining to his friend why he had thought it best to trick him into throat-fucking and straight up fucking him.

But Kakashi had not been prepared for Iruka. 

Fuck, was that the theme between them? Kakashi assuming he knew what would happen next, and Iruka intervening like an unknown, unlearnable jutsu at all possible intervals?

He had watched Iruka with real confusion clouding his judgment after they had exchanged their initial predictable dialogue – “Did I hurt you?” “No.” “But there was a lot of blood.” “Yeah, my fault, not yours.” “Are you okay now?” “Yes, sensei.” Kakashi had practiced his responses the whole way back into Konoha, and Iruka had done just as expected, repeating himself from earlier when Kakashi had prevented him from smashing his face in the dirt. Also as anticipated, Iruka hadn’t appreciated Kakashi’s shortness and had doggedly persisted in his concern, forcing Kakashi to admit that it was really his mistake, him being a wanton whore, not Iruka’s, because Iruka was too good for this world.

But from that point on, Iruka had proved immeasurably disconcerting. He had physically closed in on Kakashi, which had disturbed him greatly, primarily because he had no idea what Iruka was intending on doing. Stabbing Kakashi for being a snake in the grass? Throwing him out the window? Kissing him wildly? The last was a vague hope and stupid male fantasy, but he had not been prepared for Iruka to forcefully close the window and draw the curtains, too, very much signaling that Kakashi would be staying a while. Kakashi also knew that it meant that Iruka did not want to share their conversation with anyone beyond his bedroom, but just what Iruka imagined next was not clear – and –

Iruka had looked at him and asked softly, “Can I see your face, please?”

Kakashi’s earlier assessment of Iruka was wrong, he realized with alarm. Iruka had seemed relatively confident sitting on his bed, demanding answers from Kakashi, but up close, the teacher’s expression showed that he was truly tired and worn down. Fuck, I did that to him! 

Even still, Kakashi contemplated the reasons behind Iruka asking to see his face: the options ranged from the dreamy want of a kiss to Iruka slapping his bare face to Iruka using his exposed expression as some sort of blackmail or exploitative need to read Kakashi better.

So Kakashi carefully asked, while also not avoiding a chance to point out their time together, because he really wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to tease Iruka again: “You saw every inch of me last night, Iruka-sensei. Why would you want to see my face now?”

Sharp pleasure ran through him as Iruka’s slight blush deepened profoundly and the teacher spun his gaze away from Kakashi, throwing back at hand at his half-masked face. Iruka proclaimed heatedly, genuine to his core, “I just want to see you again, don’t be a jerk!”

Kakashi felt stuck in place. He just wanted to see me again? Am I not right here? He blinked, thinking rapidly about what Iruka meant, and the only real answer was sentimental in nature. Iruka wanted to see his ANBU again, which was ultimately Kakashi, which Iruka knew… but he also didn’t really know, Kakashi surmised after a moment. 

He dug down his blue mask, studying how Iruka turned back to see him anew. It was a fascinating expression that suddenly overtook the teacher’s face: a flush of delight followed by simmering fondness and relief. Kakashi had honestly never seen such a look on anyone’s face when they had gotten the chance to see his full features, and he tried not to let satisfaction sink too deeply into his heart. Just as Iruka had seemed to want him earlier when he’d stared at Kakashi’s throat, he was radiating a sort of familiar, interested warmth that had Kakashi’s head spinning into surprised incoherence.

But he forced himself to speak, if only because he couldn’t stand Iruka’s expression much longer: “See anything you’d like?” He could hear his voice, and he was astounded at how fucking aroused he sounded! Just seeing Iruka’s dazed, wanting expression – the same from last night – had slid him right back to the previous time he was standing in Iruka’s bedroom. Kakashi suddenly felt an uncomfortable strength in his bones, in his body: he could kiss Iruka again. Right now. He could grab the other man, press against him, kiss his neck, everything he did last night. He could do it all again, they could do it all again –

Thankfully, Iruka’s gaze shot back up to his eye, right before he spun around, avoiding Kakashi’s look. It took Kakashi a very serious moment to wrestle his desire into submission. He tried not to be unsettled by how much Iruka affected him, but the whole thing was right back out of his control again, because Iruka turned slightly, showing the side of his pretty brown face, a shadowed segment of his scar, the full length of his pony tail, and he was asking the worst question in the world, “Why did you choose me?” 

Kakashi had gameplanned for the inquiry, of course, but now that it was here, all of his preparations vanished like fall leaves dropping away during a winter storm. He couldn’t control his expression from changing as he stared even more attentively at Iruka. He found himself replying quickly, too quickly: “Who else would I choose?” He meant it, truly, thoroughly. Kakashi could hear the bewilderment in his answer, and he knew it was because he really couldn’t imagine anyone else in Konoha that he would want to be with. 

An unprovoked worry suddenly occurred to him with Iruka’s question and his response: Did Iruka think so ill of himself that it was inconceivable that Kakashi would want him? 

Did Iruka not think he was someone Kakashi would want?

Who fucking else would Kakashi want…?

As if he only wanted to further confuse Kakashi, Iruka very much rejected the provided answer, rounding about to stare at Kakashi incredulously. Throwing his hands out, the teacher declared furiously, “I’m serious, Kakashi!” 

Unfortunately, Iruka looked ridiculously attractive, not unlike how he sometimes appeared in the mission room, when jounin acted like total fuck-ups and he had to wrangle them into behaving appropriately. The sight threw him more than he wanted, and Kakashi felt himself trying to reply to Iruka’s forceful demand, but he also realized he was confused and hurt by the line of questioning. It increasingly seemed as if Iruka was thinking that he, Umino Iruka, was the lesser of the two, which really made no sense at all. The man had given Kakashi missions for years – he knew what Kakashi did for Konoha – he’d even seen him as ANBU – he must know all the dark, terrible things that defined Kakashi’s life – the inevitable future circumstances of his mangled broken-bodied death –

“I’m being serious, too, Iruka-sensei,” he finally managed to say.

Iruka looked thrown by his answer, and Kakashi felt on such uneven footing that he was briefly considering leaving Iruka’s bedroom. He rarely allowed himself to feel so unbalanced. He had done right – well, somewhat right – by Iruka, and he certainly could leave now, although they would definitely not be able to talk for a few years –

“Do you have a teacher kink?” Iruka abruptly demanded.

Kakashi suddenly knew what it was like to die of embarrassment. 

He thought had learned that earlier in the day, but he had been completely fucking wrong. Confronted by a suspicious Iruka looking terribly beautiful and accessible in the bedroom that they had fucked just a day earlier, Kakashi had literally no idea how to answer. His body happily responded without his consent, however: he could feel his bare face flood with a heavy blush, and he knew he must be staring widely back at Iruka. The shockingly unanticipated question had also triggered his battlefield reflexes: he had gone completely stiff, filled with new tension. The fingers of his injured right hand sharply and instinctively clutched at the hidden kunai in his pocket. He wasn’t even sure what he would be doing with the damn kunai – except maybe kill himself – but he had already committed to NOT killing himself – so –

Iruka was a freakishly deliberate saint once again, because he clearly showed he had not predicted Kakashi’s reaction and was backpedaling furiously. He had thrown his hands up as if to start up a ward jutsu and was stumbling over himself to apologize, all while giving Kakashi’s flushed face frantic obsessive attention: “No, no, no! I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have asked that – it’s just –”

Kakashi forced his fingers to drop the kunai, pulling his hand out of his pocket and running his fingers through his hair. The movement cut Iruka short, which was good, because Kakashi wasn’t going to be able to say his comment again if they were talking over each other. Kakashi’s voice came out strange, as if he had been choked all night, which he knew he hadn’t because Iruka had been very sweet when touching his throat just hours earlier. Kakashi dropped his gaze at the thought and valiantly tried to explain himself, “I didn’t think of it like that. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, Iruka-sen…” 

Oh, fuck.

Have I ever just called him Iruka? 

Somehow even more embarrassed, which he had thought was a total fucking impossibility at this point, Kakashi lurched his gaze back up to Iruka to see the other man’s reaction to his apparently long series of errors.

He was completely astounded as Iruka got one look at him and suddenly burst into laughter. The teacher kept laughing for a few moments before descending into giggles, practically having to cover his face to keep himself stable. Kakashi felt his blush fading as he watched the other man in real sincere surprise. Iruka wasn’t mad at him? Iruka was – Iruka thought it was funny? He blinked, thinking about what it meant to know someone who would shrug off such a strange quirk, and he found himself wondering what Iruka might do if he dropped all the honorifics.

Eventually, Iruka gave one last laugh, shrugging. As he scratched his cheek, just an inch under his scar, Iruka remarked casually, still smiling, “You never called me Iruka last night.”

Kakashi truly paused then, trying to remember all the things that he had said to Iruka. Some of it was easy enough, because he’d been enthusiastically reminding himself of their dialogue all day so he could best remember it for the rest of time. And he soon came to the quick conclusion that no, he hadn’t said ‘Iruka’ at any point – or even ‘Iruka-san’ for that matter. 

He let his shoulders drop to show just how self-defeated he was. Kakashi dared looked back at Iruka, giving him his best ‘sorry I fucked up’ expression, which must have been even more prominent without his mask. He regretfully explained, “I just always think of you as Iruka-sensei,” choosing not to add his next thought, which was something like, ‘Which is why I have fucked my hand too many nights to count while moaning Iruka-sensei.’

But then Kakashi purposefully reasserted control over himself. It would do him no good to be thinking of Iruka in tender terms: he needed to make it clear to the other man that he had done wrong, and that he would willingly submit to whatever Iruka judged as punishment. As the uncomfortable atmosphere returned to Iruka’s bedroom, the teacher looked increasingly nervous and unsure what to do or say next. That was for the best, too, because Kakashi needed to decide how properly to address how badly he treated Iruka by sneaking into his room as ANBU. There was no pleasant way to go about it, and Kakashi knew better than to make it a joke, so he eventually fell back on what he had practiced on his long walk back to Konoha.

Kakashi declared evenly, “You can tell the Hokage that I’ve compromised my identity, if you want.” Iruka practically leapt in place as Kakashi broke the tense silence of the room, but he wouldn’t be distracted from saying his piece. Instead, he barreled onwards, determinedly adding, “You can tell her what I did to you, too.” 

Iruka looked positively flabbergasted by his remarks, although Kakashi couldn’t fathom why. While he suspected that Iruka wouldn’t tell Tsunade about their night together, he might just inform her that one of her ANBU had been unmasked, however briefly. Iruka had been close with the Third Hokage: it made sense that he believed deeply in the law and order of Konoha, and Kakashi had broken some of its most sacred vows when he’d selfishly approached Iruka the night before. It was up to Iruka what he wanted to do, but he wanted to make sure Iruka knew that he actually could do it, that Kakashi wasn’t going to threaten him into silence.

However, Iruka did not respond easily or calmly. Instead, he was suddenly and quite loudly countering Kakashi’s point, “What you did to me? I did things to you!” Shaking his head, Iruka emphasized incredulously, “You did – what? I mean, I guess you gave me a blowjob?” Kakashi almost went to interrupt Iruka’s rant and point out that he had pretty much abused Iruka’s cock at the end of their encounter, but then Iruka must have registered the entirety of Kakashi’s comment, because he then remarked wildly, “Why would I ever tell the Hokage about what we did!” He paused, staring at Kakashi, but Kakashi wasn’t really sure what he should say, so he didn’t reply at all. Iruka took his silence badly, asserting in a fierce tone, “What we do stays between you and me. I’m not sharing this with anyone!” After a second, an intense blush covered Iruka’s face, and he added in snide irritation, “I know you don’t want me to tell anyone, so I won’t.”

What? What does that mean? I just told him he can tell the Hokage. Why would I want this to be private? Why would he keep it a secret? …because he thinks it’s not something people in Konoha would want to know – that the Copy Nin is a total pervert? Don’t most people already think that? That there’s something wrong with me? Wouldn’t Iruka’s word just prove that?

Questions started to stack up like debris clogging a river, and Kakashi knew he had to say something to Iruka, so he found himself echoing while rocking back on his heels and trying to better examine Iruka’s expression and body language, “Why wouldn’t I want you to tell anyone?”

Iruka did not like that answer-question, either. The teacher’s frustration exploded into aggravation that bordered on being a real whirlwind of rage. After staring furiously at Kakashi, who just stared right back, unwilling and unable to clarify anything, Iruka crossed his arms over his chest and looked firmly away from Kakashi, proclaiming as it was the most obvious thing in the world and Kakashi was so stupid not to know: “You came in through my window because you wanted sex, nothing else.”

Two years ago, Kakashi had competed with Guy in a thunderstorm: the weather hadn’t bothered them in the slightest, it had been excellent practice for a wide variety of ninjutsu and taijutsu. But, unfortunately and quite exceptionally, two unbelievable things happened at once during a single precise moment of their fight. First, Guy had landed a terrific Konoha Whirlwind kick straight to the back of Kakashi’s head, and second, a large lightning bolt had slammed down right into both of them. Guy had woken up well before Kakashi and picked him out of the mud, which Kakashi had gone down into face-first as he was rocked unconscious. 

He had felt the epitome of stupid and slow staring at Guy’s rain-soaked face as he coughed up chunks of dirt and mud, the smell of lightning fire scorching his silver hair filling his nose.

Now, as he stared at Iruka, the sensation was impossibly similar. 

He found himself mumbling in return, “I only wanted sex…? Nothing else?”

Iruka seemed to reach his peak fury as he hissed, turning a darker red, “Don’t be dumb. You didn’t ask me out on a date, Kakashi-sensei. You climbed through my window with a mask on your face. You obviously don’t want to be with me romantically.” Kakashi had never heard Iruka as infuriated as he was speaking now, and his words barely sunk into Kakashi’s brain. He knew, of course, that he hadn’t asked Iruka on a date… because the man would never agree to a date. Why would he? He was Umino Iruka, Konoha’s finest teacher, and Hatake Kakashi had been accurately called Friend Killer for years, one more mark on an endlessly long list of his ‘what the fuck is wrong with this man’ attributes.

Kakashi was still staring, uncomprehending, when Iruka stopped looking at him and instead brought his arms over his chest in an unconscious show of self-defense. Yet, as Iruka began to speak again, the other man expressed a sort of pure emotional honesty that caused Kakashi’s bones to feel suddenly brittle and breaking, his heart turning into molten metal dripping down his ribcage. Standing so very alone, Iruka was quieter, rougher, as he admitted, eyes focused on the bedroom floor, “You know, I was relieved when I realized it was you.” Iruka’s expression tore up, shame and self-pity blending horribly, “I thought – I could actually ask you out to ramen. I wouldn’t have to keep my window open every night, hoping you’d come back.” 

Kakashi worried sharply he had been caught in a very cruel genjutsu, but he had been careful, distracted but careful, and he strenuously tried to absorb what Iruka was saying without dismissing it as an attack from enemy nin or a manipulation tactic by a rogue chuunin. 

Iruka was relieved the ANBU was me? He wasn’t repulsed? Horrified? 

Because – he could take me to ramen? 

… he wanted to see me again so badly he would have opened his window again? Just for me? Just to see me again? … me, Hatake Kakashi?

However, Iruka was clearly not saying any of his confession with pleasant romance in mind. He looked storm-battered, saturated through by exhaustive anguish. Kakashi jolted upright, both his hands flying out of his pockets, as he suddenly realized that Iruka’s eyes, diverted from him, were brimming with tears. Kakashi nearly stepped forward to do something – say something – when Iruka continued firmly, his voice full of dark sorrow that Kakashi was all too familiar with: “I’ll have sex with you again, Kakashi-sensei, but I want it to be you, not you wearing an ANBU mask.”

Kakashi went still. He wanted to hear those words, but not like this. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. And, worst of all, he could tell he was the cause.

Iruka was in no way finished. He continued, speaking in shame and vulnerability, want and uncertainty: “I’m not much, I know that, but I can’t stand to pretend we don’t know each other. I don’t understand why you’d want me to –” As Iruka worked to curse, Kakashi couldn’t handle the explosion of confusion pouring through him, hearing Iruka speak so lowly of himself. He wanted to make the teacher stop talking, but, then again, he also wanted Iruka to say what he wanted, whatever Iruka wanted, because Kakashi really didn’t understand any of it, any of this.

Iruka concluded, the sharpness of his tone gone, leaving behind a soft depressed reality: “ – to fuck you without me knowing it’s you, but I’d rather know. I didn’t want to be cruel with the ANBU last night, and I’m glad I wasn’t, because you deserve kindness, but I do, too, and being strung along isn’t fair to me. Even if it’s just a secret… sex thing between us.” 

When he finished speaking, Kakashi realized that Iruka had finally been overcome by the emotions that he was letting spill all over the bedroom, all across Kakashi’s scarred body and the pained shreds of his soul. 

Kakashi took two full strides to cross the room and snatch Iruka by the elbows, jerking the man’s arms off his body, unable to stand seeing him closed off and hating himself so literally and physically. 

Kakashi knew he was on edge. He didn’t need to be a genius to tell that he was standing on a sword’s edge, slicing himself down the middle, cutting into his very being. As Iruka suddenly reopened his eyes and saw Kakashi so deadly proximate to him, he startled, but the other man really shook when Kakashi suddenly asked with the sort of force that he used for shouting at other shinobi fighting during battle: “What the fuck do you mean?”

It seemed perfectly obvious to Kakashi what he was referring to, even though his brain felt like it was completely malfunctioning, sparks of electricity catching his hair on fire and burning his skin and ravaging the tiny remnants of his mortal soul. 

But Iruka made it clear that he was actually being impossible, as the teacher instantly replied, bewildered and totally disturbed, “What the fuck do YOU mean?”

Kakashi tried not to shake Iruka, but he realized he was doing it when a few of Iruka’s hairs strayed trembled loose from his pony tail and swept about his lovely but deeply confused face. He refused to let the other man go, however, and instead forcefully pushed further into Iruka’s space while not allowing him to move backward, keeping him in the same tight hold. 

“You would take me out to ramen?” Kakashi demanded roughly. The words seemed so impossible and alien and bizarre that he couldn’t believe them as he said them. 

Under his hands, he could feel Iruka draw back as he tried to see Kakashi’s face better. He wasn’t even trying to resist or try to break the hold! Instead, Iruka looked over Kakashi’s expression – which Kakashi acutely realized must be rather uninhibited, probably both panicked and partially threatening – before Iruka answered, voice thick with confusion, “Yes?” 

Then Iruka looked deep into Kakashi’s visible eye and spoke gravely as if he were admitting a dark unfortunate secret, “I’m a terrible cook.”

Kakashi’s world fell into itself like a house engulfed in fire collapsing inwards. The brightly lit embers that flushed outwards were so shocking to his system that Kakashi only realized that he was speaking rapidly in horrifying honesty when Iruka’s mouth dropped open, but he was too far gone to stop himself. Unmasked face inches from Iruka’s, he had seethed unthinkingly, “You don’t know me. I am so fucked up, Iruka.” No honorific! What the fuck was he thinking – but – then also – “I have killed so many people. I’ve done so many terrible things.” Unwanted images of kunai and shuriken and his father’s tanto deeply embedded in throats, in femoral arteries, in eye sockets… fire and earth and water and lightning swarming over enemy nin, tearing apart skin, crushing bone, exploding men and women into red meat. “Things out of nightmare,” he was saying, adding instantly, “I don’t sleep. Ever.”

Iruka was still in his hands, silent and watching, and Kakashi kept going, unable to stop himself, insistent and wild, “I killed my teammate, my friend – I shoved my arm through her.” He could see it all again, over and over again, his lightning sliding through skin, muscle, bone, all through Rin, her face next to his, her body going slack with his fist through her. Kakashi's hand unclenched Iruka’s elbow only to force his own hitai-ate up and away, revealing his red spinning Sharingan in all its horrific glory. He prodded the fearful scar under his eye, the one that pushed into his cheekbone, the one from catching the blade on that awful mission. He was still staring at Iruka but now with both eyes. “This is my friend’s eye. He died, and I got his eye, and it’s made me famous, and sometimes I think about gouging it out.” He paused before proclaiming darkly, “But I won’t, because I have to kill for Konoha whenever and however she needs until someone kills me.” 

His hand returned to Iruka’s arm, but he was grabbing onto Iruka’s bicep, his grip shaking. Kakashi said it aloud, all the things that followed him, his fears running out of his soul into Iruka’s bedroom, barely understanding why: “And that’s going to happen: someone will kill me, because all I do is kill Konoha’s enemies.” He emphasized, word for word, not just for Iruka, but for himself, “It’s all I do. It’s all I’m good for.”

Kakashi shook his head, feeling his body protest at the immense strain of sudden chakra drain paired with the physical tension of losing himself. But he insisted, looking at Iruka in a way that he knew was adoring and admiring and miserable: “You do the exact fucking opposite. I saw you today, making those kids laugh, after all I put you through.” Kakashi heard himself laugh, but it was dry and dark and empty. He looked further down Iruka’s face, at the scar crossing the teacher’s face, and he admitted lowly, “I don’t have any of that left in me. I’m just another one of Konoha’s weapons.”

Kakashi suddenly met Iruka’s surprised gaze again. “You’re the best thing in this village. Don’t you understand that?” He abruptly dropped his hands from Iruka, knowing too well that he had certainly caused bruises, and he was regretting them immediately. Kakashi shook his head again, his injured right hand coming up to palm his open Sharingan. He explained clearly, concluding with resolve, “You can’t take me to ramen. You should have nothing to do with me.” Kakashi swallowed, his hand dropping to run over his blue mask, instinctively considering whether or not to draw up the cloth and his hitai-ate. He finally finished, sorrowed at the truth, but knowing he had to say it, he had to make Iruka understand: “I will ruin you. I will kill your goodness by just being me.”

He started to turn towards the closed window when, through all the emotional numbness, Kakashi felt Iruka’s hand snap down on his right wrist and push hard on the bundle of nerves there, instantaneously causing his full hand to go numb, all the way through his fingers. Although his battlefield instinct demanded swift retribution, he was strangely too shocked to do much more than turn back to Iruka, who was staring at him with what honestly seemed like real fire burning in his dark brown eyes. Not releasing Kakashi from his grip, which was obviously disabling if kept long enough, Iruka was loud and clear and sharp-toned as he reprimanded the jounin: “Do you think I’ve never met ANBU before? Jounin? Chuunin that leave the village?” 

Kakashi wasn’t sure how to respond: of course he knew Iruka knew those people. But –

Iruka stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think I don’t believe in the Will of Fire?” 

Kakashi could feel his expression untangling as he stared widely at Iruka. His Sharingan caught faint traces of chakra burning off Iruka, all organic, happening out of the teacher’s control. 

Iruka’s voice was steel, cutting deep into Kakashi, as he asked harshly, “Do you forget I am a shinobi of this village?” He fortunately released Kakashi’s hand, only to grab Kakashi by his flak jacket, making Kakashi’s stance unstable with the sudden forceful movement. Iruka persisted, staring up into Kakashi’s eyes, both of them, utterly unconcerned by the Sharingan: “I was friends with the Third Hokage; I know he killed all kinds of people, and I played shogi with him whenever he wanted. I can’t tell you how many times I made tea for him!” 

Iruka shook his head, looking incredulously at Kakashi. His voice softened, and his grip loosened, too, which was a relief, considering the man seemed more capable of brutal strength that Kakashi had first appraised. Moving his hands to palm Kakashi’s jacketed chest, Iruka noted pleadingly, “Do you think I don’t know why Naruto is with Jiraiya? He’s getting training – so he can kill people better.”

Iruka’s hand let loose of Kakashi’s flak jacket entirely, which felt strangely like a loss, but then Iruka fingers brushed over the new red marks on Kakashi’s wrist. Iruka redirected his gaze there, turning Kakashi’s hand so he could see the small bit of flesh between Kakashi’s blue shirt and glove. He shrugged, quietly confessing, “I don’t care, Kakashi. He’s fighting in defense of Konoha. I will always love him, no matter what he does.”

Iruka’s eyes drifted back up to Kakashi’s, and there was such genuine fondness and worry that Kakashi was initially unable to comprehend that it was meant for him. But Iruka had a few final words, and as he said them, he smiled softly, sadly, at Kakashi. “You think I should be scared of you. I’m not: I’m scared for you.”

Kakashi heard a whisper – and he realized it came from himself. 

“… what?”

Iruka’s hand was so pleasantly cool when his palm found Kakashi’s feverish cheek. His thumb gently stroked the scar underneath the Sharingan, and he looked sweetly into Kakashi’s eyes. “Why are you so hard on yourself?” he asked quietly, as his other hand slid over Kakashi’s arm, nearly drawing the two of them together. His voice was soothing, reassuring, like finding cold water in the desert. As Iruka comforted him tenderly, his hands drew perfect parallel circles on Kakashi’s scar and bicep, “You’ve done so many good things. Kakashi, please –”

And Kakashi felt himself grabbing and pushing Iruka towards the bed, and he was so relieved that Iruka went willingly with the motion, and then Iruka was sitting down on the bed’s edge, and –

Kakashi pressed his face into Iruka’s shirt, his tears causing small wet spots in the cloth. Both of his arms were wrapped completely, fully, tightly around Iruka as he sat sprawled on the ground between the other man’s legs. He shoved his face as close as he could get to Iruka, hearing and feeling the man’s heart beating solid and ceaseless and strong. 

His sigh became strangled when Iruka finally moved, his hands finding space on both Kakashi’s arm and his hair. As Iruka’s fingers delved into his silver hair and ran over his scalp, Kakashi tilted his head back and dared look the other man in the eyes. 

Gazing back at him, full of affection, Iruka petted Kakashi’s hair for a slow moment before he used his other hand to caress Kakashi’s unscarred cheek. When he leaned down and kissed Kakashi, it was pure acceptance – and a promise of so, so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter preview: let's do outrageously kinky things together and continue being emotionally vulnerable!
> 
> ___
> 
> Y'all are gorgeous. Keep being kind and good. Thank you, always, for kudos, subscriptions, comments; your words are inspiring in ways I cannot describe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, darlings. 
> 
> You deserve all the happiness in the world. I hope this helps, even just a little. 
> 
> ___

Iruka held Kakashi close, his heart breaking into little pieces. Being so intertwined with the other man, Iruka could tell the very moment when Kakashi stopped crying into his shirt. But he still continued to maintain their embrace, something that Kakashi didn’t seem to mind at all. After kissing him reassuringly, Iruka began to run his fingers through Kakashi’s wild silver hair. Kakashi said nothing else after his impassioned tirade, but his slightly shaking body exposed how fragile he had become. Iruka utilized the very last reserves of his strength not to cry or shake as well: he was determined to be there for Kakashi and not fall apart himself.

After a long while, Iruka brushed his fingers over Kakashi’s scarred cheek, which caused Kakashi to look up at him with mournful mismatched eyes. Staring back at him, Iruka tried not to let his voice tremble as he asked softly, “Do you want to spend the night?” He felt ridiculous posing the question, but, even as Kakashi’s expression wavered weakly, he knew he needed to push them past their shared moment of pained resolution into one of recovery.

With his mask down and his hitai-ate pushed aside, Kakashi’s face was truly spellbinding. Iruka watched Kakashi glance over his expression with those strikingly dissimilar eyes, clearly seeking the right answer to the request. Iruka struggled against the impulse to kiss Kakashi again, instead forcing himself to wait for Kakashi’s decision.

After several tense moments, Kakashi finally nodded in a movement so slight that it might have been easily, entirely missed.

He detangled himself from Iruka with much less efficiency and grace than he had done previously dressed as ANBU the night before. After Kakashi stood up unsteadily, Iruka rose to join him. It was hard not to embrace Kakashi again, but he held himself back. Instead, Iruka wordlessly pulled at Kakashi’s flak jacket, attempting to tug it off. He could tell a faint blush had worked its way to his cheeks, and he averted his gaze from Kakashi’s, hoping the other man would understand what he wanted without him having to say anything aloud.

Iruka endured a few truly humbling seconds before Kakashi silently acquiesced, slipping off his jacket and easing out of the other rougher parts of his shinobi attire. As Iruka stepped away to give him space, he tried not to be alarmed as Kakashi produced a series of kunai and explosive tags and other disturbing objects from visible and previously unseen pockets. He placed them all – as well as his ever-present hitai-ate – in a disorganized pile on Iruka’s nightstand. 

Distracting himself, Iruka absently touched the wet spots on his shirt where Kakashi had wept. 

He could barely follow what had happened between them, or what was happening, but he could tell that his fierce acceptance and care meant the world to his friend… his lover.

The word tore through him, and Iruka felt his face redden wildly, unexpectedly.

He and Kakashi were lovers now, weren’t they? He had just asked him to spend the night! And it looked very much like Kakashi was going to do it, too. They were going to sleep together…!

Iruka felt truly embarrassed as he realized that he could imagine fucking Kakashi more easily than he could imagine the elite jounin sleeping beside him. 

Seeing Kakashi slowly undress before him, disbelief overwhelmed Iruka: he would have access to Kakashi at his most vulnerable when just two days earlier he would have laughed bitterly if someone told him Kakashi considered him even passably attractive. 

When Kakashi was down to his shirt and boxers, he glanced towards Iruka with his one good eye. He had closed his chakra-draining Sharingan, which left him with the appearance of a man slight wincing, especially when combined with his visible self-doubt. 

Kakashi looked helplessly embarrassed being so exposed. 

Witnessing such a truly surprising expression on his friend, Iruka found himself closing the distance between them. He could barely recognize himself as he pulled Kakashi into a deep kiss, both of his hands coming to hold the other man’s face, his fingers dipping into that lovely silver hair, all as if he had done it a million times before – and not just for the second time without an ANBU mask between them. 

It felt so good to be able to kiss Kakashi after having a crush on the man for years – even as it still seemed so incredibly unbelievable.

It felt… perfect.

Kakashi went with the kiss so energetically that the situation turned quickly against Iruka, and he was suddenly on his back, laid flat on the bed with Kakashi straddling him, all long pale legs and obsessively exploring hands. Iruka stubbornly tried to keep kissing Kakashi, but he could only occasionally achieve his goal, much to his frustration. Instead, Kakashi was relentlessly pouring over Iruka’s body, running scarred fingers over every inch of him, his one-eyed gaze following his curious hands as he fervently traced over Iruka’s clothed form.

Iruka only realized he gasped when Kakashi’s black eye suddenly redirected to his face. Kakashi’s expression had turned unreadable, and Iruka abruptly felt very stupid and weak underneath such an enigmatic and powerful shinobi. 

A distant unwanted vision of Kakashi on the training fields rushed through his mind: the silver-haired jounin was practicing his famous lightning jutsu, his Chidori lighting up the darkness with crackling white-blue chakra. Iruka was sure Kakashi had known he was there; he had stopped to stare while walking home after his shift at the mission desk, but Kakashi hadn’t called Iruka out. Instead, Iruka had stood still, watching in awe as Kakashi flew through the night, wrangling the jutsu into something fine and sensitive and strong for the next time he needed to defend Konoha.

And now Kakashi was on top of Iruka, barely dressed in Iruka’s bed, touching him all over, clearly thinking about kissing him.

Impossible – so totally impossible –

Iruka knew he must have flinched because Kakashi paused in his silent but enthusiastic attention to Iruka’s body and drew up his wounded right hand to push stray hairs from Iruka’s face. He looked so different than how he often appeared while wandering through the village, a lazy bored jounin disinterested in the world. Kakashi’s expression, while seemingly neutral, was set quite seriously as he concentrated down upon the man laid out between his thighs.

After an intense moment watching Iruka’s expression, Kakashi remarked, his voice hoarse, “I can’t believe you want to be with me.”

It was such a strange experience to stare up at Hatake Kakashi, the Copy Nin and Master of a Thousand Jutsus, and hear him say something that indicated such impossibly low self-worth, all while Iruka felt like he could kiss the man into submission if he was only brave enough to try. 

Kakashi was absurdly pretty and fine-featured without his porcelain ANBU mask, cloth mask, and hitai-ate concealing so much of his face. His silver hair still swept to the left even without his headband controlling its shape. But, as Kakashi bodily hovered over Iruka, his hair had become even more messy and askew. His pink lips were thin, his beauty mark dark, and his single open eye intense and pained. His shut Sharingan – and his facial scar – were fascinating distant reminders of his power and his past, chaotically combined together into one.

He was so gorgeous that Iruka felt remarkably dull in comparison, like a simple brown-colored peahen finally witnessing a blue-and-emerald peacock in the wild on full display.

Forcing himself through unnecessary self-deprecation, Iruka moved slowly but purposefully. He could see Kakashi observe him warily as he did so, but Iruka persisted, unwilling to let his pride trip him into stumbling through their first time together unmasked. Iruka reached behind Kakashi’s head, threading his fingers into the man’s silky hair, pulling him downwards with gentle force. Before their lips met in a soft kiss, Iruka admitted quietly, studying Kakashi’s unsettled look, “I’ll do anything in the world to make sure you never cry again.”

Upon saying the words, Iruka felt his self-control weaken, and he resolutely forced back the tears that sprang to his eyes. Kakashi made it all the worse when his neutral expression transformed after hearing Iruka’s declaration, turning so thoroughly anguished that Iruka found himself whispering roughly, “Oh, Kakashi…” and Iruka pressed their lips together into what he desperately hoped was a strong enough kiss to soothe the other man even just a little.

Soon enough, he felt the full force of Kakashi’s kiss again – that dizzying, wondrous intensity from the night before, the one that made him question both his sanity and stability. Before he knew it, Iruka was tightly gripping Kakashi’s shoulders, desperately trying to keep the other man pressed close against him. 

But Kakashi wasn’t going anywhere: he was deepening their kiss with every passing second, his tongue licking into Iruka’s mouth and exploring inside, his body flush and hard against Iruka’s twisting form. Kakashi seemed like a man possessed, trying to do whatever he could to join his body with Iruka’s, even though he was surprisingly not initiating sex between them. His hands fisted the sheets by Iruka’s head so tightly that, even with all the chaos and commotion of their kissing, Iruka could hear the fabric tearing, ripping, in Kakashi’s brutal grip.

It took a serious contemplative second to realize that Kakashi wasn’t breathing – just like he forgotten to the night before when he eagerly suffocated himself on Iruka’s cock. It was confusingly and terribly flattering that Kakashi was so distracted by what they were doing that he had ceased breathing – but very, very dangerous! Iruka gave a surprised laugh before trying to pull away. His eyes flashed up to meet Kakashi’s as he forced distance between them.

Looking up at Kakashi, Iruka felt warmth simmer through his soul. 

The elite jounin was so totally flushed that it made complete sense that he hid behind so many masks. Iruka could see now that the blush that had painted his lower cheeks last night actually rose further up to cover the top of Kakashi’s cheekbones. The sight was so charming and lovely that Iruka instantly caught Kakashi’s cheeks in his hands to hold him still and admire him properly. 

Even with his Sharingan closed, Kakashi still managed to awkwardly blink using his single eye: he looked increasingly embarrassed as Iruka slowly and deliberately investigated his bare face in the fading throes of passion, seconds after kissing. Before Kakashi could say anything, Iruka murmured softly, entranced by the sincerity saturating the other man’s facial features, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Iruka was absolutely delighted to feel more blood rush to Kakashi’s cheeks, his fingers warming from the new heat radiating off Kakashi’s skin. This subsequent blush was somehow even more striking as it totally covered Kakashi’s face. Iruka knew he was smiling dumbly up at the other man, but he was so terribly surprised and relieved and overjoyed that he could have a positive effect on his friend that he didn’t even think to stop and restrain his smile.

Kakashi’s dark open eye widened as he stared down at Iruka, obviously at a loss to what to say. He swallowed hard, his throat visibly shifting, before he eventually pulled away from Iruka – which Iruka thought was the most distressing thing to happen since Kakashi had started crying an hour earlier. But Iruka forced himself not to protest. Instead, he sat up, watching Kakashi as the other man stepped around the bed, slipped easily under the bedsheets, and slid a long pale hand over the mattress, glancing up at Iruka with stunning shyness.

Iruka blinked several times at the realization sunk in: Kakashi didn’t want Iruka to fuck him, he wanted to sleep with him… as in, sleep beside him! 

He could feel an embarrassed blush trying to claim his own face, and he rubbed at his scar for a second, self-conscious. He willed his confused erection down, nearly snapping at it with chakra, before he turned off the lamp on the nightstand and joined Kakashi under the bedsheets.

While he had thought their earlier intimacy was confusing and unbelievable, Iruka now realized that he had never in his life considered what it might be like being face-to-face with Hatake Kakashi in bed while drifting into peaceful slumber... 

Laying beside him in the darkness of his bedroom, Iruka had to force himself to resume eye contact with Kakashi. So much of him wanted to stare at Kakashi’s bare throat, the soft skin he had so recently pressed his fingers against – or rake his gaze over the muscular slope of Kakashi’s bicep, the one with the curling ANBU tattoo. But he tried to be brave, and he met Kakashi’s amused stare while blushing hard and unthinkingly fluttering his eyelashes.

“Do you mind turning around, Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi drawled, his voice soft as the night. His smile was small but so very significant. Iruka had to jerk his gaze back up to Kakashi’s single open eye, having been captivated by the pink lips he’d lovingly bitten the night before.

He followed directions reluctantly, fleetingly depressed that he wouldn’t get to watch Kakashi fall asleep. But everything changed as he suddenly felt Kakashi’s long fingers smooth over his ponytail, capturing his hair-tie and letting loose the rest of his hair. 

Iruka stiffened as Kakashi started running his fingers through Iruka’s hair. It felt too much like the young aggressive jounin who had recently cornered him at the mission desk and had pulled out his hairtie, petting him far too roughly and definitely without his consent, all while being sweaty and bloodied from an unexpectedly intense mission. The other chuunin had managed to get the jounin away from Iruka, but he could still feel firm scarred fingers digging at his scalp - Kakashi didn’t mean to – but it was so similar – and –

Kakashi’s warm breath spread over the back of his neck just as his left arm swept over Iruka’s waist, gently pulling him against Kakashi’s body. He lessened the intensity of his stroking as he whispered into the cascade of Iruka’s long hair, “Can you sleep like this?”

Iruka’s voice caught in his throat. He found himself staring widely at the far wall, the one with his closed window. He had never imagined Kakashi holding him like this. All his old fantasies had been centered on strangely softly-lit romantic sex… or going down on Kakashi in alleyways outside of bars when he was feeling particularly filthy-minded. 

None of them had ever lasted long enough for him to imagine Kakashi cuddling with him! 

But, now that it was happening, Iruka wanted it more than anything the world. He felt protected and protective, wanted and wanting. His heart pounded so loudly that he could barely hear himself as he managed to answer, sounding rather faint, “Of course.”

He wasn’t sure if he could actually sleep, though. His body was restless, fidgeting. Iruka wanted to turn around and kiss Kakashi senseless. He wanted to grope the other man through his boxers. He wanted to spread Kakashi’s legs, lick his fingers and push them inside him while he stroked Kakashi’s cock, watching the man’s beautiful bare face contort in pleasure.

Iruka was also praying that Kakashi wouldn’t move his hand any lower. As it was, Kakashi’s fingers were loosely resting on Iruka’s clothed abdomen, several inches above his groin. It would only take a slight movement downwards for Iruka’s very persistent erection to be found out, and he would die of sheer embarrassment if Kakashi realized that he was currently more interested in sex than sweetness.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on Kakashi’s breath on his neck and in his hair. Iruka could tell that Kakashi was awake: the fingers of his left hand were drawing little lines on Iruka’s abdomen, over and over, rhythmically, ritualistically. But he wasn’t sure what to say to the other man, especially since Kakashi had so sweetly and innocently requested to sleep with him. 

Iruka felt very strangely as if he was actually the pervert who read Icha Icha books all over town, not Kakashi, even though the jounin had definitely placed the distinctive orange book on Iruka’s nightstand just minutes earlier.

He concentrated on Kakashi’s lean fingers and on his steady breath, relishing their closeness… the delirious feel of Kakashi’s muscular body flush against his… Kakashi’s possessive hold… his soft and incredibly sweet interest in cuddling…

Iruka woke up three hours later.

He blinked in blurry confusion at the alarm clock: the bright scarlet numbers declared it was past midnight, revealing that Iruka had fallen asleep while being embraced from behind by his friend… 

No, his lover!

Iruka instinctively went to turn over and look at Kakashi before he realized that he had moved considerably during his sleep. Suddenly noticing that he was tucked into Kakashi’s right side with Kakashi now resting flat on his back, Iruka could only glance up at the other man, blinking repeatedly. He was surprised by how much their position had changed without him noticing. His right hand was tightly holding onto Kakashi’s thin shirt. His right leg had swung wide over both of Kakashi’s, twisted under the bedsheets. 

Iruka was pressed entirely against Kakashi’s right side in a full clinging embrace.

And he realized that Kakashi was completely awake, looking down at him with his single black eye, a wide smile across his pale face.

Iruka could not restrain the blush that rushed to his cheeks. He wondered faintly if he would ever stop blushing around Kakashi. He guiltily started to remove his hand from forcefully gripping the other man’s shirt when Kakashi’s left hand caught him and pushed back down, keeping Iruka’s palm over Kakashi’s sternum and heart.

Iruka willed himself to speak, but he only ended up saying one word very quietly while sheepishly staring up at Kakashi… “Hi.”

Kakashi’s lean silver eyebrows rose on his too-pretty face. His smile persisted as he replied easily, looking down at Iruka curled against his chest, “How are you, Iruka-sensei?”

“I’m fine,” Iruka murmured. But his fingers were drifting of their own accord, rolling downwards, catching Kakashi’s ribs, one by one, as he neared the man’s abdomen. Without breaking his gaze, Iruka asked curiously, his tone purposefully soft, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Some,” Kakashi replied, going fascinatingly breathy as Iruka fully opened his hand across Kakashi’s clothed stomach, dipping down into his hidden belly button. Kakashi, too, kept eye contact, even as he looked increasingly strained with Iruka’s roaming attention to his body. He added quickly, his tone weak, “I told you I don’t sleep very much.”

Iruka nodded in response, but his focus had already shifted. His greedy desire, placated earlier by chivalrous deference, disregarded any other attempt at being a gentleman with his new lover. Iruka pushed up Kakashi’s shirt, drawing his insistent fingers down into Kakashi’s boxers, brushing the very edges of his silver pubic hair, all while he watched Kakashi’s expression flicker with want and surprise.

Before he could reach down further and grab the object of his worship, Kakashi’s hand rapidly and firmly enclosed around his wrist, stilling him entirely. 

Iruka froze, afraid he had done something wrong, but Kakashi only stared back at him with his single good eye, breathing hard, unable to say anything at first. A few heated seconds passed before Kakashi finally said, his voice tense and desperate, “Tell me what you want.”

Somehow Iruka found the decency within himself not to jerk his hand out of Kakashi’s grasp and declare in frustration, ‘I obviously want your cock, you idiot!’ Instead, he observed the slow change that overtook Kakashi’s expression: the silver-haired jounin seemed progressively more worried, although it wasn’t immediately clear why that might be. Iruka tried to consider Kakashi’s perspective to try and track what he might be thinking –

\- and it took him a truly serious moment to realize that Kakashi might feel guilty for controlling so much of what they did the previous night.

Of course, Iruka was more than thrilled with their first time together, so he really had no immediate complaints, but he could recognize the validity in Kakashi’s request. He stayed silent for a few seconds as Kakashi’s face darkened in concern.

Eventually, a sweet albeit sinister idea snuck into Iruka’s imagination. He couldn’t keep the thrilled smile from his face, which only caused Kakashi’s worry to transform into aroused alarm...

Or alarmed arousal, Iruka wasn’t sure. 

Iruka removed his hand, enjoying the brief wince that crossed Kakashi’s face as he suddenly regretted stopping Iruka’s advance further south. Iruka propped himself up, resting on his stomach, carefully watching the other man. He prodded Kakashi on the chest with one finger, steadfastly demanding a truthful response, “You don’t like preparing yourself, do you?”

Kakashi was so surprised and mortified that he inadvertently opened his Sharingan to stare at Iruka with both eyes. He flinched as he realized what he had done, but Iruka swiftly moved to touch Kakashi’s left cheek, his thumb brushing over the thin jagged scar. The unexpected movement caused Kakashi to keep the Sharingan open; he looked uncertainly over Iruka’s interested expression but kept his mouth firmly shut, evidently unable to answer. 

Iruka found himself leaning forward, bringing his lips just over Kakashi’s, taking in the bashful confusion of his lover underneath him. “I don’t want to hurt you again,” Iruka explained, his voice low. 

He brushed a promising kiss over Kakashi’s lips, causing the other man to reach for him in an attempt to pull him closer, but Iruka instead sat totally upright and crossed his arms over his chest. He gave Kakashi a particularly firm, scolding look. “But I did hurt you – because you skipped basic steps,” he reminded Kakashi, who rapidly seemed to be learning how to melt into the mattress he was so completely ashamed with himself. 

But Iruka wasn’t intending on punishing him! He actually wanted quite the opposite. 

He showed his intention by smoothing his hand over Kakashi’s cock still trapped and hidden by Iruka’s bedsheets and Kakashi’s boxers. Iruka treasured the wondrous thrill that rushed through him as he found Kakashi already quite hard even though (maybe… because?) he was being reprimanded. As he watched Kakashi respond to the sudden intimate touch, he also felt darkly pleased to hear the silver-haired jounin’s breathing hitch badly. 

Desperately overwhelmed, Kakashi shut his Sharingan, unable to handle both the chakra drain and Iruka’s hand.

Iruka started to stroke Kakashi’s covered cock slowly and lovingly as he described what he wanted to happen next: “I’d like to fuck you with one of my toys while I suck you off.” Kakashi’s expression turned so aghast by Iruka’s dirty talk and his too-generous caressing that Iruka made sure to smile down at him and ask sweetly, “Is that okay?”

Kakashi’s reaction was instant: although his cheeks flushed red, he nodded at Iruka with untampered enthusiasm. His eye sharpened on him as he stared, fascinated, at Iruka, and his mouth crept into an embarrassed but very interested smile. The whole change in demeanor was so amusing – and, honestly, arousing – to see such an excited and intrigued look on the bare face of Hatake Kakashi, the Copy Nin, that Iruka had to kiss him, he just couldn’t help himself.

But their kissing went wild almost immediately. 

Within seconds, Iruka was suddenly atop Kakashi, blissfully feeling the other man’s astonishingly hard cock thrust against his thigh. Kakashi’s right hand was yanking off Iruka’s shirt while his left hand was forcing its way between their bodies, clearly wanting to touch Iruka’s cock that he could feel so thickly pressed against him. Although Iruka allowed the removal of his shirt, he forced Kakashi’s other hand away, kissing him one last time before he stepped off the bed entirely.

Kakashi looked after him with such a pitifully crestfallen expression that Iruka had to remind himself that the other man would be alright – more than alright, even! – and that he must not be persuaded by Kakashi’s adorable bare face, especially not now.

Iruka didn’t have too many sex toys: it only took him a few seconds to decide what would be best for Kakashi. He ultimately chose the small flared glass toy that he used on himself when he hadn’t fooled around with anyone in a long time. He had actually just used it on himself yesterday – because he had certainly not imagined he would be the one doing the fucking when he opened his window – and definitely not that he would be fucking Hatake Kakashi.

When he turned back around, Kakashi had surprised him yet again: he was suddenly and entirely nude. Iruka stopped in place, staring at the still absolutely unbelievable sight in front of him, his gaze urgently running over the exquisite pale body of his friend. 

Kakashi watched Iruka appreciate his body, noticing the hunger and wonder obvious in Iruka’s expression. Iruka found himself breathless with expectation; he was barely able to control his voice when their eyes finally met again. He finally murmured, “I know you already know this, but… Kakashi, you are just stunning.” 

Blushing, Iruka swallowed hard before he drifted towards the bed but then stopped himself. 

How had he managed to convince such a legendary shinobi to lay sprawled, wanting and vulnerable, waiting in bed for him…?

Iruka knew he was flustered. He was suddenly confronted by one single question: How could he possibly do such things to… with…

Kakashi slowly sat up, his lean scarred body incredibly lovely in the bedroom’s low lighting. He opened his Sharingan; both his red spinning and black eyes were dark with desire. He stood with such infinite grace that Iruka went slightly faint… Kakashi was dangerous, truly and remorselessly dangerous. He knew it, too: he approached Iruka like he might frighten the other man away if he was too thoughtless, instead moving with deliberate and elegant care. 

Iruka looked up at Kakashi, a blush filling his scarred cheeks. The silver-haired man, so strikingly nude, slid one hand over Iruka’s arm while the fingers of his injured hand threaded Iruka’s loose long hair. He tilted Iruka’s head back easily, and Kakashi whispered, his lips brushing over Iruka’s ever so slightly, “I don’t want ‘this.’ I want you.”

Iruka felt himself go weak he was so overwhelmed, but Kakashi moved his arm to Iruka’s waist and caught him, holding them flush together. His scarlet-and-black Sharingan was achingly mesmerizing, but so was the sincerity of Kakashi’s smile. When he leaned forward and kissed Iruka, there was surprising shyness emanating from Kakashi that sent shivers down Iruka’s spine. Kakashi swept his tongue along Iruka’s lips after a moment, and their kiss deepened, the two tasting, feeling, melting into each other.

When they finally separated, Iruka felt dizzy and flushed, barely able to open his eyes. Holding Iruka tight against him, Kakashi looked like a man who had once starved himself of everything Iruka was now offering all too willingly. The sweet blush on his pale face roused Iruka out of his stupor; he bodily pushed against Kakashi, directing him back towards the bed. Iruka was secretly thrilled that he could herd Kakashi so easily. He took off his boxers in a shaky movement. Looking back up, Iruka’s eyes widened in amazement as Kakashi spread himself across the bed, moving his legs open so Iruka could easily situate himself between them.

Iruka struggled not to fall down in worship. He instead demanded real damn bravery from himself and found a comfortable position between Kakashi’s thighs. His hand distractedly caressed the pale skin between Kakashi’s knee and hipbone; he smiled, deeply pleased, as he saw goosebumps rise across the elite jounin’s body. 

He leaned down and licked a spot on Kakashi’s bare thigh that called to him, enjoying the stifled sound of surprise and pleasure from above him. Iruka meandered his way to Kakashi’s cock, still trying not to shake in shock that this was Hatake Kakashi and he could do what he wanted with him. He gave a few exploratory licks here and there, everywhere he could, anywhere he wanted; he was yet again intrigued by Kakashi’s trim silver pubic hair. Iruka had to repress a smile each and every time he heard Kakashi restrain himself from making a sound while still brutally gripping Iruka’s bedsheets.

But Iruka knew he wouldn’t have all the time in the world, knowing how much they clearly wanted each other. Yet he was nothing but skilled when it came to pleasuring his lovers: he would use everything he had ever learned to reduce Kakashi to a breathy begging mess. 

The man fucking deserved it. 

His mouth was on Kakashi’s cock as Iruka spread lubricant on the glass sex toy and the fingers of his right hand. At first there was caressing and teasing: while Kakashi was initially rather tense, his body relaxed more and more, his legs opening as he propped them up instinctively. Iruka immensely enjoyed the feel of pushing a slender finger inside Kakashi as he ran his tongue up the man’s beautiful hard length... 

But what he enjoyed more was the soft sinful sounds that Kakashi could no longer hold back. 

Iruka didn’t want to embarrass his friend – his lover! – so he deliberately didn’t look up at Kakashi. But so much of Iruka was desperate to see Kakashi’s beautiful bare face during sex. Instead he forced himself to enjoy the intermittent sounds coming from Kakashi – and the sight of Kakashi’s hands shaking in semi-silent satisfaction, his fingers clutching violently at Iruka’s light blue bedsheets. 

All those different lovely sensations, and Kakashi so obviously enjoying himself… Iruka could feel his own arousal building, and he unthinkingly pressed his cock against the mattress, not caring how shameless he must look, relishing the feel of his erection moving sweetly against something hard and unyielding.

After Iruka had managed two fingers and could spread them rather easily within Kakashi, he replaced them with the glass toy. He could feel Kakashi startle at the difference, a distinct motion particularly obvious with Kakashi’s cock in his mouth, so Iruka moved quicker, taking him in more, working to soothe him with pure overwhelming pleasure. After several uncertain seconds, Iruka’s tactic worked, much to his undeniable immense relief. 

In fact… Kakashi adjusted his right leg even further, seemingly advocating Iruka to push in more.

Iruka felt unbelievably hot and confused, but he willed himself to compartmentalize and make what Kakashi was experiencing enjoyable, so enjoyable that he’d want it the rest of his life. He was so very thrilled to have Kakashi’s cock in his mouth: he had barely had time with the wondrous thing around his lips the night before. Now he indulged himself, moving slow and adoring Kakashi at his most intimate.

He was not expecting Kakashi’s sudden demand.

“Fuck my mouth.”

Iruka instantly looked up, slowly releasing Kakashi’s hard cock, his hand stilling between Kakashi’s legs. Iruka was already so flushed he would have thought it was impossible to have his face grow even more heated, but he felt fresh blood flood to his cheeks as he finally saw Kakashi’s bare face during sex.

The elite jounin was so breathless and taken that he had his head tossed to one side, the scar through his eye on full display. Although the red-and-black Sharingan was still spinning rapidly, Kakashi could barely keep his eyes open as he glanced back down at Iruka. As if he was right out of Icha Icha, Kakashi bit at his bottom lip in this wild absurdly wanton way that had Iruka immediately shaking. Iruka swept his gaze over the man, finding that Kakashi’s throat and chest slightly pink from the flush of arousal. The thick muscles of his arms were bulging in restraint as he continued to clutch madly at the bedsheets without Iruka even doing anything to him.

Iruka felt incredibly close to fainting as he tried to respond. “You want me to stop doing this?” he managed to ask, his voice partially breaking as he spoke the words.

Kakashi’s wet tongue flicked at his bottom lip before he replied almost inaudibly, the half-closed Sharingan fixed obsessively on Iruka, “I can take over.”

The logistics of Kakashi’s request slowly formed in Iruka’s mind. He struggled to understand, feeling ludicrously slow and dumb…

But then he realized Kakashi wanted Iruka’s cock in his mouth – while Kakashi continued to fuck himself with the glass toy.

Iruka firmly restrained himself from smashing his hands into his face. He similarly fought the sudden impulse to knock himself out of whatever crazy sex dream was consuming him.

Instead, he pulled Kakashi’s right hand away from destroying the bedsheets and wrapped the man’s fingers around the base of the flared glass. He did so with such tenderness that he ended up stroking Kakashi’s ANBU injury again, instinctively wanting to reassure the jounin.

When Iruka finally moved up to sit beside him, Kakashi turned his head to consider Iruka’s slow approach. Kakashi looked distantly but truly embarrassed, his mismatched gaze drifting down and away from Iruka, before he hesitantly sought out Iruka’s eyes again. 

He looked the very vision of shame and insecurity.

That wouldn’t do. Not at all. Not for a second longer.

Iruka answered his uncertainty by kissing Kakashi so hard that he could feel and hear their teeth collide together. He insistently pushed his tongue into Kakashi’s mouth, making the other man unexpectedly gasp for breath after several demanding seconds. Iruka backed away a little, continuing to press kisses onto Kakashi’s bruised and parted lips, before he ordered Kakashi, being both simultaneously firm and devoted, “Always tell me what you want. I just want to make you happy.”

Kakashi’s left hand flew off the bedsheets and caught Iruka hard on the back of his head. It was not terribly unlike when Kakashi as ANBU had grabbed Iruka’s shoulders when Iruka first went down on him the night before: Iruka’s body rang out unmistakable warning bells that his partner was impressively powerful, someone and something to fear. Iruka had no ability to resist, but he found he didn’t want to, not as Kakashi brought them back together, their kiss reigniting and becoming obscene. 

Kakashi’s eager tongue was seemingly memorizing the inside of Iruka’s mouth. Kakashi’s fingernails scratched deep into Iruka’s scalp through his hair as he licked hard and insistent. Iruka was panting, gasping, moaning out of control; his hands were tight on Kakashi’s bare shoulders, his fingers catching the curls of Kakashi’s scarlet ANBU tattoo.

After a few seconds, Iruka nearly passed out… because he suddenly realized that Kakashi was already fucking himself with the toy – all while kissing Iruka so desperate and wild.

“Oh, fuck,” Iruka muttered, forcibly pulling away from Kakashi. He slapped a frantic hand to his face, not daring to look back down to see what Kakashi was so obviously doing to himself. He felt strangely dissociative and out of body as he straddled Kakashi’s bare chest, his untouched cock stiff and erect between them. Iruka leaned forward, not wanting Kakashi to have to struggle to reach him, but he found his balance off, all the blood in his body having fled south down between his legs. 

As Iruka caught himself, he realized his hand had landed on the pillow that Kakashi’s head was resting on – and he’d inadvertently grabbed onto some of the man’s stray silver hair as well. Before he could adjust his position, Kakashi gave a truly electrified grin, his dissimilar eyes opening wider, the red-and-black Sharingan blazing and bright. He moved forward quickly, and Iruka felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as his cock went right down Kakashi’s throat – again! 

Just like last night! But – fuck – better this time!

His fingers instinctively curled tight around Kakashi’s hair. Iruka laughed, short and breathy, as he recognized Kakashi’s sudden delight was because Iruka was going to yet again pull his hair while Kakashi got to suck his cock.

But now there was a new and unbearably wonderful difference: Kakashi’s arm was flexing and moving behind Iruka, revealing that Kakashi was fucking himself while he took Iruka’s cock in his mouth and throat, Iruka tightly gripping his hair.

It was just so, so good – Kakashi himself was so impossibly good…

Iruka closed his eyes and tried to last longer than a few seconds, but Kakashi was making it far, far too difficult…

**

Kakashi knew he wasn’t dreaming. Blood always drenched his dreams; they were filled with the screams of civilians and only ended when he shook awake, covered in sweat, tasting bile.

This wasn’t a dream – and it wasn’t a fantasy, either. He knew that because he had never successfully conjured up anything so perfect in his long miserable life.

Iruka was blissfully murmuring praise with his eyes closed, letting Kakashi guide his body back and forth with his free hand clutching Iruka’s ass. He was clearly allowing Kakashi to set the pace but was still ceaselessly throatfucking him. Iruka looked very similar to how he had appeared during those last few minutes of their fucking the night before: his face was terribly flushed, his scar stood out prominently, his kiss-bruised lips parted as he panted desperately, allowing Kakashi to control his cock and direct their shared pleasure. 

Kakashi was ridiculously thrilled that he could still use the Sharingan to memorize Iruka in such a state, even if his overused eye was all but screaming at him to stop abusing it so much.

But Kakashi couldn’t stop himself. He found himself desperate in every aspect of their sex. He honestly had never thought that being prepared could or would feel so good. Although he was deeply embarrassed to have anyone, let alone someone as divine as Iruka, shove something between his legs, Kakashi was incredibly surprised by the subsequent pleasure that had flickered through his body and flooded his senses. 

Kakashi also felt like the dumbest man in existence because he had not considered what it might be like to have Iruka fuck him with his fingers or an object – and suck his cock at the same time. He had enjoyed the night before when Iruka had only gone down on him even for such a short time. He really had never expected Iruka to do such a thing for him or to him… There was always a submissive, masochistic edge to oral sex in Kakashi’s imagination, which now seemed so very obviously a wrong belief to hold. 

Iruka had clearly not been passive when he ran his tongue over Kakashi’s cock and fucked him with his fingers. Eternally generous, Iruka hadn’t even looked up as he took control of Kakashi’s pleasure. His kindness had allowed Kakashi to stare down at the astonishing sight of Iruka’s lips wrapped around his cock, his hand moving in rhythmic strokes, both acts and the sight sparking white-hot joy throughout him…

Kakashi forcibly memorized everything with his aching Sharingan.

And he definitely had not fantasized what was happening now. Based on just two short nights with Iruka, Kakashi was beginning to think that he was actually a truly unimaginative man – and might have been having rather boring sex his whole life, too.

Yes, Iruka had been momentarily flustered by Kakashi’s request, but he’d agreed quickly enough, and he was certainly enjoying throatfucking Kakashi again, there was no denying that. 

In fact, the teacher was more forceful than he had been yesterday: perhaps it was the different angle, with Kakashi on his back instead sitting on his knees, or that Kakashi was fucking himself while downing Iruka’s cock. He also didn’t particularly care to stop and ask what was so appealing to Iruka; Kakashi was much more interested in the delicious feel of Iruka’s hard length filling his mouth, the wonderful ache of his jaw, the stretch of his throat over and over again.

He felt little tears at the edge of his eyes – unsurprising with the Sharingan being so furiously overused – but he knew it was also because he was asking just a little too much of his body. He honestly didn’t care, thrilled by the sight and feel of Iruka so lost in pleasure, but he remembered the sharp pain of Iruka’s finger jabbing his chest, warning him not to cut corners –

Just as Kakashi pulled his head back, moving his free hand up to stroke Iruka’s throbbing cock, Iruka abruptly asked, “Kakashi… can I please fuck you now?”

He blinked both eyes in surprise, fully taking Iruka out of his mouth, the same moment that Iruka opened his eyes and looked down at him for the first time. 

In a purely lazy and self-indulgent motion, Kakashi leaned his scarred cheek partially against Iruka’s thigh, letting his tongue run over the thick middle of Iruka’s cock. He kept eye contact with the poor dear teacher, who looked utterly unable to function, especially as he apparently realized that Kakashi had not particularly slowed down in his now perpetual interest in fucking himself with Iruka’s toy. 

He was on perhaps his third long languid lick of the side of Iruka’s cock when Kakashi nodded slowly in amused agreement.

Iruka shuddered once, full body, which caused him to pull Kakashi’s hair, forcing Kakashi’s head slightly back away from his cock. Kakashi relished the power in Iruka’s loose grip, and he found himself baring his throat far too willingly, a dreamy smile instantly crossing his unmasked lips. He kept his hand on Iruka’s cock, stroking up and down just once, before Iruka warned him, his voice alluringly husky, “You are not allowed to smile like that.”

Kakashi’s smile went even wider, satisfaction and arousal merging oh so wonderfully within him. He kept eye contact with Iruka, who was looking nearly faint with frustration and pleasure, a look that Kakashi was now determined to create on him at every fucking possible opportunity for the rest of time.

“I’m not?” Kakashi flippantly asked. He enjoyed the brief second of a scolding warning that flickered over Iruka’s face, and he went to lick at Iruka’s cock another time, but then suddenly the teacher surprised him.

He blamed the distracting and damn good feel of Iruka’s toy sliding in and out of him for how much he was caught off-guard by Iruka’s sudden movement from straddling his chest to moving down and shoving up Kakashi’s legs by the back of his thighs. He barely got his fingers out of the way before Iruka carefully removed the toy from him – and then replaced it without warning with his very hard and ridiculously thrilling cock.

Kakashi realized he’d thrown his head back and was clutching at Iruka’s thighs, his nails digging into thick muscle, when he heard Iruka above him answer fiercely, “No. You can’t smile like that and not get fucked by me.”

He felt his whole body shift roughly as Iruka thrust into him for the first time. His head hit the wooden back of the bed, but he was far too obsessed, distracted, overwhelmed by the distinct feel of Iruka fucking him again. It was different from last night – definitely different from the first time, the bad time, but also from the two other positions, with Kakashi on his back and then with Kakashi in Iruka’s lap. It was probably the shocking wonder of them knowing each other – Iruka knowing it was him – Iruka wanting to fuck him, Hatake Kakashi – that was causing some of the astonishing sparkling sensations building within him.

But it also must be different because he was better prepared – he could recognize and admit that. 

Kakashi heard himself gasping out loud each and every time that Iruka pushed into him, but he didn’t want to restrain himself or keep himself quiet, even though a distant shame ate away at him for being so uninhibited. He had closed his eyes the very instant that Iruka entered him, and he felt totally unable to open them back again, his Sharingan almost weeping in sudden relief. His fingers couldn’t move from Iruka’s thighs now that they were there: he was using Iruka for stability, there was simply no way he could handle getting fucked so hard so good so fast.

Suddenly, Iruka was leaning down across him while continuing to fuck him relentlessly. Kakashi could feel Iruka’s hand catch the side of his face, then the thick of his hair, and he groaned completely out of control as Iruka used his hair to yank him upwards. He went with the forceful movement and realized that Iruka was desperately trying to get closer to kiss him. 

He grabbed Iruka’s face with both hands, instantly tearing them off Iruka’s thighs, and Kakashi poured every single little shred of himself and his soul into their kiss. He didn’t move away when Iruka twisted a bit in the hold, working strenuously to keep fucking him at the same intensity and speed. Instead, Kakashi pushed upwards to meet him better, and Iruka laughed breathily against his mouth before giving Kakashi’s bottom lip a rough bite. 

Kakashi’s hands shook in Iruka’s long loose hair at the thrill of pain, and he found himself suddenly strangely very breathless, and then, just like that, he realized he was coming, far sooner than he’d imagined he would.

He dropped down almost immediately, unable to keep himself sitting halfway up, his hands loosening around Iruka’s face. Kakashi was surprised and wildly flattered as Iruka followed him, obviously wanting to keep kissing him through his climax. Kakashi ran his hands over Iruka’s bedsheets during that first delicious feel of pleasure hitting its peak within him, his cock jerking between them, cum coating his chest and abdomen. 

But more than anything – Kakashi felt Iruka’s sweet persistent lips on his, and then Iruka’s tongue coaxing, comforting, caressing his own within his mouth.

And then – Iruka was backing away just the tiniest bit, and he shuddered, his body convulsing over Kakashi, his cock inside Kakashi. He huffed frantic hot breaths against Kakashi’s open mouth as he came just as unexpectedly as Kakashi had a moment earlier. As Iruka shook through the crazy force of his orgasm, Iruka urgently ran his hands over Kakashi’s hips and up his sides to finally reach his shoulders. 

As Iruka’s fingers clenched down on his biceps, both of Kakashi’s eyes flew open, because Iruka pressed a soft but insistent kiss on Kakashi’s jawline, near his beauty mark, and –

He whispered, throaty and abandoned, “Kakashi…” 

As his injured right hand delved deep in the other man’s loose hair, Kakashi forcefully shifted his lips to Iruka’s. He breathed frantically, “Iruka, yes, God, yes,” and kissed him with a shaking frenzy that he had never expected of himself. 

He was having a difficult time recognizing himself – could he really be so unreserved? free? enjoy himself like this? with someone who knew him? someone who wanted to be with him? – but, then again, Kakashi thought he actually might be finding himself in Iruka’s desperate and astonishingly powerful embrace. 

Kakashi could feel Iruka move out of him, but he was all too pleased and overwhelmed by Iruka settling against him like how he had done during the night while restlessly sleeping beside him. He shivered at the strange feel of being nude, covered in cum, with another man against him after sex; he tried not to worry that he had never felt that until now. He instinctively wrapped his arms around Iruka, who did the same thing at very nearly the same time. Before Kakashi could lean down just slightly to kiss his hair, Iruka turned his face upwards and looked at him directly in his one good eye – a confusing movement that Kakashi had not expected.

He was even more thrown when Iruka suddenly asked, his voice dangerously serious, backed by the sort of intent that Kakashi knew from the Hokage demanding clarity after botched missions: “Why did you come into my window last night?”

Kakashi knew he had done the man wrong by not answering correctly or clearly earlier in the night when Iruka asked why Kakashi had chosen him. But he had been made bewildered and dizzy by the very question. Although Kakashi recognized that his answer was absurd, he really truly didn’t want anyone else besides Iruka. 

Instead of saying any of that, though, Kakashi simply replied, looking down at Iruka with his one eye, feeling the other man’s body reel through exhaustion and ecstasy under his hands: 

“Because you finally opened it.”

Iruka instantly perked. His eyes focused hard on Kakashi’s single open eye. He started to push himself upwards, but Kakashi kept his arms around the teacher, silently forbidding him from moving too far away. Iruka acquiesced without acknowledging it aloud and asked skeptically, a bit of concern in his tone, “You’ve been watching my window?”

Kakashi hoped in vain that the flush of arousal was still saturating his cheeks, because he felt a new subsequent wave of embarrassment roll over him, which he knew would have made him blush heavily under any other circumstance. He found he had lost his voice at the question and could only nod slowly but surely, still watching the other man’s uncertain expression.

Iruka blinked, surprised. He tilted his head just slightly as his hand pressed down on Kakashi’s bicep, the one with the ANBU tattoo, and moved back further, trying to see all of Kakashi’s face. Iruka slowly inquired, staring at him suspiciously, “You’ve gone into other windows, right?”

Kakashi wondered if he was going to merge with Iruka’s mattress at this rate. 

But he also knew that he should have been honest from the start, and this was another one of those damnable opportunities to redeem himself. So, Kakashi found himself admitting in a quiet, strangled voice, “Just one before yours.” He could feel shame contort his expression, and he ducked his single-eyed gaze from Iruka’s, unwilling and unable to keep eye contact through his confession.

He didn’t see Iruka’s response, but he could feel it. Iruka stiffened in clear shock: he must have imagined that Kakashi was a frequent user of the new protocol, when he could clearly not have been more wrong. His breath went a bit irregular, too, and Kakashi wasn’t very surprised to hear him ask next, having noticed Kakashi’s poor reaction to the question, “It didn’t go well?”

Kakashi stared with deadly precision and intensity at their bare feet close together towards the bottom of the bed. He could see the full length of his body, the fading flush of sex, Iruka’s tan arm propped against his too-white scarred abdomen. He felt his hand, the one on Iruka’s upper back, tremble a little out of his control, as he replied as evenly as he could, “I hurt him.”

He was not expecting Iruka to suddenly grab his bicep harder, nearly wrenching him off the mattress, and declare in a tight voice close to Kakashi’s face, “I didn’t want to hurt you! I’m so -”

Kakashi instantly interrupted him, flicking his heated gaze to Iruka’s face. He could tell that he was frowning in real deep dark displeasure, but he didn’t care to stop himself. “Iruka,” he cut in, inordinately relieved that he had stopped the teacher from giving yet another apology. “You could never hurt me,” Kakashi assured him, consciously working to soften his expression. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Iruka was frowning now, too. He was almost scowling, actually, a strangely familiar look on the man based on their many poor encounters at the mission desk. Iruka firmly stated, his eyes disapproving and fixed on Kakashi’s expression, “You were bleeding.”

Kakashi immediately shrugged. “I’m always bleeding,” he admitted far too carelessly for Iruka’s taste, because the other man started to say something, but Kakashi continued, his voice hardening, turning dead and cold, as he stared back at Iruka, “I’m always bleeding. I’m always exhausted, and I’m always alone.”

Iruka’s eyes did that lovely thing where they went warm and soft and sweet, like melting brown sugar. His hand drifted to Kakashi’s face, his fingers gently caressing the long scar there. His voice was pure silk and sorrow as Iruka murmured while watching him, “Kakashi… I wish you had told me sooner.”

Kakashi knew he sounded a little bitter as he replied dismissively, still in total disbelief of Iruka’s professed concern about him: “You would have taken me out to ramen?”

Iruka surprised him by suddenly cupping his cheek and moving slightly towards him. He looked hurt – so hurt that Kakashi instinctively went to check for new wounds – before he realized that what he was seeing was emotional hurt – that Iruka felt bad – for him? because of him?

“Yes,” Iruka answered, his voice shaking, his eyes wounded. “I would have given you a key to my front door. You should always have someone to come back to, Kakashi. Someone who cares for you.”

Kakashi stared at him, feeling somehow even more dumb and lost than he had been the last two days combined. He knew he was being damn rude and confusing, mainly because Iruka finally couldn’t handle the tense silence and incredulous staring, and the other man dropped his hand down from Kakashi’s face. 

But he wasn’t moving away from Kakashi. Instead, Iruka shifted enough that he could pull Kakashi’s injured hand off Iruka’s upper back, and he pressed their hands together, entangling their fingers. His thumb moved slowly, worriedly, over the black stiches of Kakashi’s injury. He was staring at the grisly sight, too, while he continued to pet and caress the healing wound.

“I saw this ANBU yesterday,” Iruka said quietly, almost under his breath. “She was hurt. I wanted to help her so badly, even though I didn’t know her.” Kakashi felt a little part of himself click into place deep inside: he had seen that, he had seen Iruka’s care and concern for a stranger. It was what had motivated him to check Iruka’s window one more time. To hear Iruka actually admit it, to say that he really did worry about an unknown ANBU…

But Iruka continued on, unaware of Kakashi’s internal contemplations, “I can’t imagine you…” He swallowed roughly, almost wincing. “… being hurt and not having anyone.” Iruka’s thumb gave a tiny peculiar shake over the stitches of Kakashi’s chakra-enhanced knife wound. 

Kakashi found himself easily admitting aloud, staring down at Iruka’s hand holding his, Iruka touching his wound with real sincere concern and stress: “That was my mission partner.”

Iruka jerked his gaze to see Kakashi’s face, and he stammered out, “You – you were the one who picked her up off the street?”

Not able to look back at him, Kakashi could only nod. He could still feel Manaka’s broken ribcage in his hands. He could still smell the iron-rich blood as it poured fresh and fearsomely out of her body, through her shinobi gear, into his hands, onto his gear. But she was already receiving visitors at the hospital; her jounin partner had been by her bedside, petting her hair into place, whispering sweet nothings to her, even while she remained unconscious.

Kakashi hadn’t said anything to him or Manaka, but he had felt the most distant relief before he flickered out of the tree outside Manaka’s hospital room and went to visit Iruka again. 

Suddenly Iruka confessed in a low tone, “I hadn’t opened my window until last night.” He leaned down, and Kakashi felt a dizzy flush rise up his soul into his cheeks as Iruka gave his injury a sweet feather-light kiss. He concluded in that same breathless whisper, “You… were my first ANBU.”

Kakashi was infinitely louder and more assertive than he meant to be as he suddenly turned his hand in Iruka’s grip, pressing their palms together, and asked, more than a bit afraid, still finding himself unable to look at Iruka in the face, “Can I be your only ANBU?”

Iruka gave a slightly breathy laugh. It sounded suspiciously like perhaps a gasp or sob that Iruka strangled before it became real and existent. Iruka answered, his voice truly unstable, his fingers trembling while intertwined with Kakashi’s, “Can you use my front door?”

Kakashi was surprised when he heard himself speak again: he sounded much quieter than before, like he was small and scared, which he was almost certain he had never been in his life. 

“If you give me a key,” he replied, still staring at their hands.

He could feel Iruka breathing heavier with their bodies pressed together, Iruka flush against his right side. The man’s chest was moving at a near-frantic pace, one that revealed just how confused and wanting he was of whatever was happening between them. Kakashi noticed that he, too, was having a similar reaction: he could see his scarred pale form rising and falling with the intensity of his breathing. 

Even though his voice stayed rather soft, Iruka was more self-assured as he spoke, “I can do that.” 

Kakashi finally looked up at him. He found that Iruka had been watching their hands, too, but he had noticed the slight movement of Kakashi’s head, and soon they were staring into each other’s eyes. Kakashi kept his poor Sharingan shut, realizing too finely that the blurry edges of his vision had started earlier to turn red with blood, the Sharingan truly reaching its limit. But he wanted so badly to memorize Iruka’s hopeful and hopeless expression that Kakashi could only declare hurriedly, “Then I’ll use your front door.”

Iruka fiercely seized onto his hand. His brown eyes were abruptly aflame, and he seemed genuinely about to burst with excitement as he asked desperately, “Can I... take you to ramen?”

Kakashi answered instantly, staring back at him, “No.” He watched Iruka’s face turn stunned, then disappointed, then devastated in the shocking span of two seconds flat. But Kakashi was already moving forward, his lips finding Iruka’s scarred cheek, softly kissing him there. He nuzzled against Iruka’s neck, relishing the feel of his sweat-cool skin, as he responded more clearly, “I want to cook for you.” 

He could hear Iruka breathe out unsteadily before Iruka turned his head and kissed the long scar through Kakashi’s Sharingan. “Oh… okay,” Iruka answered with what Kakashi realized after a moment was sincere giddy joy, something he had never inspired in anyone in his whole life.

He pressed his face further into the space between Iruka’s neck and shoulder, forcing them into an even harder embrace, bringing their chests together, drawing Iruka’s leg in between his own. Kakashi could feel his heart pounding – and it was the good sweet kind of thrill that he knew must happen in other people much more frequently than with him. Kakashi could sense with his lips against Iruka’s neck that Iruka’s was equally excited; his pulse was quick and exhilarated.

Kakashi found himself smiling against Iruka’s skin as he murmured adoringly, “I’ll pick you up from the mission desk.”

Iruka laughed into his silver hair, relieved, and then kissed down on Kakashi’s bare shoulder. Kakashi could tell that the other man was smiling too, his lips in a little delighted crescent as he kept kissing the curves of Kakashi’s muscular arm, over and over again. 

Iruka’s voice was a pleased whisper as he replied softly, “I can’t wait.”

And, honestly, Kakashi couldn’t wait either, but he would be patient and appreciate everything that he had right now, what they had right now, because Iruka was worth it.

He and Iruka – the two of them together – they were absolutely worth it.

No more open windows… It would only be the front door from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
